Dear Hinamori
by JoanyChan
Summary: A letter, a trial, a friendship close to breaking. Can written words convince Momo that Toshiro is not the one who ruined her life? He is determined to reach out to her: with a letter, he writes his most heartfelt truth before the trial that may kill him.
1. Dear Hinamori

A/N: To make sure no one gets lost: Words in written normally are what's currently happening, words written in _italics _are from the letter!

For those of you that have read "Peaches and Truths" by the user, SpringofInkedDreams...yes this is the same thing, and yes, I am that user. My stupid gmail account got deleted for some odd reason and I was unable to log into my account anymore. And my stupid brain can't recall my password...Oh, and yes, I am sorry for any of the upsets I have caused for my lack of recent uploads. Please forgive me!

From now on I'll be using this account.

Enjoy!

**Dear Hinamori**

Dear Hinamori

"Case number 132. The people of Kurakara versus…"

_Dear Hinamori,_

"Hitsugaya Toushiro"

_I don't understand why I have decided to write this. Actually, as I am writing, I realize that there are many things I don't understand at all. _

An officer of the court strides across the front of the court; she makes her way past a young man in handcuffs and his lawyer.

_I don't know whether or not tomorrow will be my last day. I don't know why life was so harsh on us. And most importantly, I don't know if you will ever forgive me._

"…Charged with first-degree murder and domestic disorderly conduct."

_All I know, is that tomorrow, I will be on trial; I know that you, who are hurting and lost right now, are the one who accused me; And I know that I don't hate you for this. _

"…Court has decided on the penalty of execution…"

_Because I know you don't remember._

Judge Yamamoto looks down at the young man. He can only see how messy his silver hair is on his lowered head.

"How does the defendant plead?"

_But I do. _

_I can recall everything as if we just suffered our pasts yesterday. _

The young man hides his face behind the shadows of his hair. He keeps his icy-ocean eyes on the ground.

Silence.

_I never told you. Even if you had given me the chance to, I wouldn't have. I thought it was the right thing to do. _

_Now I'm having second thoughts._

"Not guilty." His lawyer answers for him.

_I'm not sure what would make you happy anymore. I thought that simply protecting you from the evils of the world could save you from the common sickness called "pain". _

_But I failed._

The young woman in sitting next to the prosecution attorney snorts under her breath as she tucks a strand of dark hair back into her bun. She watches the defendant and wishes him the most discomfort he has ever felt.

_So now I am here, wondering if it would be best to tell you about what really happened. Wondering, if doing so would save you—or destroy you. _

_So perhaps, it would be best,_

"Prosecution, are you ready to commence?"

_to let you decide whether or not to read on at this point. _

The young woman keeps her cold eyes on the man and nods.

_Because everything you will read_

"Then let this trial begin."

_is true. _


	2. Peaches

**Peaches**

"Ladies and gentlemen of this courtroom," The prosecution lawyer begins as she paces across the front of the room. "You are here today because this young woman has been robbed."

The echoing of her heels against the polished wood floor stops when she pauses to face the jury.

"She was robbed of a father."

The girl can find nothing to look at in the filled courtroom. So she glares at the boy at the defense side with stone cold eyes.

He does not return her gaze as her attorney continues her opening statement.

"Five years ago, Hinamori Momo thought she was to finally have a loving family when Sousuke Aizen adopted her from an orphanage. She thought she was to finally have a person to call 'father', a place to call 'home'.

"But instead, she was given a one-year coma, memory loss, and the death of her caring new father. How?"

"Because on that day five years ago, when Sousuke Aizen adopted Hinamori Momo. He also adopted a new brother for her to love and love her was that very same brother who killed Sousuke Aizen, caused Momo to lose her memories out of shock, and stole her right for happiness. That boy was

"Hitsugaya Toushiro."

_Hitsugaya Toushiro._

_That was the name I was given by my parents- at least, it was the name I remembered being called. I wouldn't have known if it was my real name or not. Both my mother and father died in an accident when I was too young to have a consciousness._

_Unlike the other kids in the orphanage in Karakura, my name was the only thing I owned. The rest of them came to the orphanage with something. A small toy, a blanket, a memory of where they came from. _

_I only came with my name._

_I suppose the way I felt when I was found on the streets by Granny was the same way you felt when you awoke from your coma. I suppose we asked the same questions at those times:_

_Who am I? _

_Why am I alone?_

_Karakura- as you probably know- is not a very poor town. You rarely find people begging or living in the streets. _

_Which was why I was an oddity._

_All the other orphans there, they were either unwanted by their parents or runaways. They knew where they came from, who they were. _

_I was the only one who didn't._

_It was probably my personality that kept the others away. It wasn't hard to hear them whispering about me. _

"_Cold and mean."_

"…_doesn't talk to anyone."_

"…_never smiles…"_

"_Like ice."_

_But you were somehow…different. _

_You weren't intimidated by me._

_I remember that it was winter when we met. A couple days before Christmas. I was sneaking off from the orphanage to escape the holiday spirit—which brought me nothing but the nostalgia for the family I never had._

_I ran off from the orphanage often. No one really cared- they never missed me anyway. Granny would only scold me once and a while, but not as much as some of the other kids who tried. Unlike the others, I could find my way back. _

_The weather was particularly cold that day; I remember that because I always enjoyed the cold. The sky was heavy with snow clouds. The snow on the ground was turning old, but the wind was turning it into ice. The same happened to our tree: the snow that covered it was replaced by icicles. _

_At the time—before it became our tree—it was my tree. It wasn't anything special to a passerby. To anyone else, it would've looked like any mediocre, thick-trunked, peach blossom tree. But to me, it was a sanctuary from the orphanages closed walls, the insanely warm temperature, the annoying orphans. _

_Isolation was a desirable state. Being alone allowed me to contemplate about my life and try to find some reasons to be happy. Like any other day, I went to the tree to find isolation. But that day turned out to be something other than "any other day"._

_When I climbed up the tree and sat my usual branch, I found myself unable to meditate the way I typically did. That was when I realized there was a distracting humming above me. It occurred to me that this meant I had an intruder and I was about to scare him off. But when I looked up, I wasn't given the chance to tell that intruder to get lost._

_That was because I found you._

_Or rather, you fell on me._

_My first words to you were to get off me, but with my face in the snow, it probably sounded more like "mmmm!." Because of this, it took what seemed like hours before you realized you were sitting on something other than snow and anxiously stood up. You were eager to apologize—that was a habit you never lost—and kept on saying sorry to me the whole time._

_I helped you pick up the belongings that fell from your knapsack during our plummet, noticing that all you carried with you were peaches. I didn't bother asking what you were doing with so many of them: what was the point in getting to know someone that you'll never cross paths with again? _

_After all, with your warm brown hair tied in two ponytails and your wide smile, you seemed like someone who had places and things to go to; a bedroom with a playful puppy, a group of friends to sell cookies with, a home with a family waiting—every thing I didn't have. _

_But we had finished picking up your stuff and you were just staring at me, so I had to say something. Maybe it was because I was jealous of the life I had concocted for you, but I told you to get lost and find your mommy. _

_You simply sat in the snow with me and continued to stare. I was waiting for the tears to well up in your eyes, but they never appeared—which was good because I later found out that I couldn't handle seeing you cry. _

_But you told me that you didn't have one. _

_You replied, "I'm running away."_

_This caught my attention. "From who? Your parents?"_

_You broke your glance away from me and off to the horizon. "I don't know. Maybe." You shrugged. "I don't really remember anything except that I'm running away."_

"_So, you don't know what you're running away from. Or where you're from. And you have no where to go." I said impatiently. I probably should've been more sensitive about it, but I wasn't exactly the most understanding person back then._

"_Nope." My sarcastic remark didn't seem to bother you though, because you simply smiled brightly at me. It never occurred to me at the time that you were probably used to being alone._

_Then you sneezed. I offered you my mittens, and then eventually my coat. I thought that it would be pathetic for me as a guy to be standing there all dressed warmly next to a girl without anything on her. _

_You thanked me and then looked at the coat curiously-like you've never worn a coat before. _

_I looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to put it on. I liked the cold, but not that much. _

"_Um…" You laughed sheepishly. It was that guilty naive laugh that would stay with you the next few years. Do you still have it? Anyway, you then said. "…can you help me put it on?"_

_So I did, grudgingly. You didn't seem to notice how pissed I was and giggled out a "thank you". _

_You offered me a peach in return. _

_I didn't like fruit back then. Actually, the only thing I ever liked back then was candy- eating anything else for me was a hassle (which was probably why I was so short). _

_But I accepted it. Tor some reason. I guess I was too afraid to offend you. I didn't really understand why I ate it. But under your eyes, eating the dumb fruit wasn't such a torture._

_And soon enough, we were sitting on a bench and talking. We didn't really talk much about our pasts- neither of us really had one. Instead, we talked about what we didn't have. We talked about what we thought it would be like to have a sibling, to go to a normal school, to go home and say "I'm back". _

_Pretty soon, it was eight and the church bells rung. By that time, you had already become the closest person I knew. I told you more than I had told anyone about myself in the past ten years I had lived in the orphanage. _

_Maybe it was for that reason that I didn't really want to leave you behind. _

_So I got up and told you to come with me and live at the orphanage._

_You were reluctant at first and asked if people would be mad if you went to stay. Then you worried that people wouldn't like you._

_I never said this out loud, but when you asked me those questions, I thought they were the stupidest questions I had ever heard. I replied, "Who cares? As long as you'll be happy, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."_

_I didn't say this out loud either: I didn't think you would have a problem making friends. Actually, that was what I was worrying about at the time._

_But then you asked, "Will he find me there? No one will take me away right?"_

_I wondered who you were talking about, and then I asked._

_You only gave me a blank look and said, "I don't know. But I know someone is looking for me. Someone bad." _

_I didn't understand how dangerous that person was at the time. In fact, I only thought you were confused. So I just assured you that no one would hurt you there. And since you insisted, I even promised you. I didn't know how impossible it would be to keep that promise._

_So you smiled brightly and ran ahead. You spun back to look at me- I was never the kind of person to show excitement, but you were. _

"_Come on! Let's go, um…" You trailed off._

_That was when I realized that during those four hours we talked, I forgot to ask the most important thing about you: your name._

_But I was a guy, and being the kid I was back then, I was too shy to ask your name first. So you did._

"_What's your name again?" You asked._

"_Toushiro. Hitsugaya Toushiro." I called out. Just in case you were too far to hear._

"_Nice to meet you, Toushiro-chan!" You called out your greeting-something we forgot to do when we met. And you called me Toushiro-chan, something nobody has called me before. Actually, you were the first one to ever call me by first name._

"_My name's Momo! Hinamori Momo!" Then you seemed have thought about something for a while and asked, "How old are you Toushiro-chan?"_

"_Ten."_

_You giggled. I didn't really see what was so funny. Then I thought, maybe you were laughing about my height-something I was touchy about back then. I yelled out in irritation, "What's so funny?"_

"_I'm ten too." You laughed even harder. By then, I had already caught up to you, and you ruffled my hair. "That's okay, Toushiro-chan. You'll grow."_

"_It's Hitsugaya to you." I grumbled. _

_But you never called me by Hitsugaya. And I didn't tell you this but…_

_I never really minded._

"Today, Hitsugaya Toushiro is facing this trial to face the consequences of what he has done. He has taken the kindness he was given for granted; killed the loving father who had given him a home; and abused his foster sister to a state in which she can not even recall her past.

And there is evidence to all of this. We can prove it all."

* * *

**A/N: I edited snippits of the second chapter I found before. Hopefully, this one seems better.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review! **


	3. Adoption

**Adoption**

The prosecution attorney continues to attack the young man, puncturing him with words. Her client, the young woman sits quietly and listens.

"Cold-hearted.", "ruthless", "killer"…

These words bring her satisfaction. Her past is affecting the present—her past is materializing.

And even better, someone is paying for what she lost.

xxxxxxxxx

"_The orphanage is blessed to have you." Granny said that to you when I appeared at the door with you hiding behind me. She said that to everyone who entered the orphanage, even me. Except with you, her words had a truth in them._

_When I told you to come with me, you asked if everyone in the orphanage would like you. I told you not to worry about it, and I thought to myself that everyone would probably like you. _

_I was wrong._

_They loved you._

_You became the center of attention. Granny always chose you to read the bedtime stories to everyone else, and all the kids wanted to play with you. You could've chosen to be friends with the other happy-go-lucky girls. _

_But for some reason that I still cannot understand even to today, you chose me._

_And-I was too embarrassed to tell you this back then, but-I was happy for that. Because somehow, I had started to like you as well. It was probably that smile. With that smile on, you made it seem like there was no such thing as sadness, jealousy…all those things that make people cry these days. You were innocent. And…_

_I wanted you to stay that way._

_With that in my mind, somewhere along the way as we grew up together, I made to myself a promise. I wanted to protect you, so that you could stay carefree._

_That was before I realized how impossible it would be to keep that promise._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_The day our lives changed forever started as a normal morning. _

_As the memory of that day envelopes me in its smells, scenes, and noises—as if I am twelve years old again—I wonder if there was anything I could've done back then to change today_

_The day began with me trying to sleep in as long as I could; I thought back then that the more I slept the taller I would grow. Maybe I was right, but if I was, then I probably won't be growing any taller; I became an insomniac since the day we separated. _

_But you were sent by Granny to wake me up. And as always, for the past years we've spent together at the orphanage, you did so by getting close to my face and giggling: "Rise and shine Shiro-chan!" And even after two years of telling you so, you never seemed to understand that I was faking sleep (I wasn't that sound of a sleeper). _

_I opened my eyes and gave that same pissed look (I actually thought you would stop doing that). I was unfazed by how close your face was. It was something I grew used to. "I'm already awake."_

_And you, as always and unlike the others, were unfazed by my scowl. You understood that it wasn't that I didn't like you-I was just like that. So you just smiled that bright smile that reminded me of the sun, and chirped: "Good."_

_You got up from the ground and threw some clothes you got from my drawer by my straw mat. Then you skipped out the door and called out as you bounded down the stairs: "Breakfast will be ready soon!"_

_I didn't take long to dress. I threw on a simple T-shirts and shorts, but not the ones you gave me. I always made a point in doing that. You were always the motherly type, but I hated being babied. Especially by you, since you were the same age as me, taller, and a girl. I was such a kid back then, wasn't I?_

_I would do anything to even be babied by you now._

_I went downstairs and found all the other orphans already seated at the table. Although it was never officially announced, each one of us had our own place at the table. Mine was always next to you, since you were the only person who wasn't scared of me._

_It was when I was scarfing down my tenth blueberry pancake when a knock came from the door._

_All of us stopped slurping, fighting for food, and doing all the other immature stuff we did back then to listen for who it could be. But both Granny's and the visitor's voices were too hushed to be heard from the dining room. We did hear the rustle of papers, and the scratch of a pen though. So we knew one thing: someone was moving out._

_Maybe I was a weird orphan (I was different from all the other kids, after all), but I hoped it wasn't me. One of the many things I never admitted was that I liked the orphanage. All those complaints about the room being too small, the others being too noisy…they were all true. But still, I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. _

_As I am writing this, I realize how blind I was back then: I was so scornful of the kids with "perfect" lives and families that I failed to see that I already had a home of my own. _

_It was ten minutes later when Granny finally said something to us- that was to call you into the room. _

_When I heard "Momo-chan", I stopped reaching for my eleventh pancake. Suddenly, I didn't care if that extra pancake could've given me an inch._

_You always handled situations differently than I did back then. Where I would've objected, you endured. And so, you obediently followed. But like I said before, you handled situations differently than I did. _

_So naturally, where I would've looked ahead, you looked back. And the person you looked to was me. _

_And the second I saw your eyes…I swear, I had never seen you as frightened as you were back then than any other time you looked to me. But I had already made my decision before I saw that look on your face; I made my decision the moment Granny called your name. _

_I wasn't going to let you go._

_Thinking about it now, everyone must have been even more frightened of me when I scowled at the table. I didn't notice, or care, at that time. I was too busy trying to think of how to keep you here._

_I hated feeling useless. I still do, but not as much as I did back then, or even at that time. I hated, and still hate, feeling useless in front of you. There was this aura you had about you that made me want to do my best. _

_And because I could see no other way at that time (and I still don't now), I got up, stormed into the room, and interrupted._

"_Hinamori can't go!" _

_I don't know what the expression on Granny or the man's face was, since I was looking at the wooden floor that time. I probably seemed pathetic to them, and I must have known that back then too since I remember how hot with embarrassment my face felt. _

_I remember how hopeless I felt, and all the possible ways this could turn out wrong. I was on the fiftieth way of how the man could've rejected me when by some kind of miracle, he said:_

"_I can take him in too."_

_We both looked up in surprise. And we saw the man, our new father, smile. _

_Granny's voice seemed far away when she said. "Are you sure? Don't let Hitsugaya-kun intimidate you. He is quite the trouble-maker."_

_Granny was right, but even so, he only said. "Well, it would only make me feel guilty if I separate them. And besides," His brown eyes met mine, "this young man already seems to be close to Momo-chan anyway." _

_That was how we first met Aizen Sousuke. _

**

* * *

**

A/N: I really don't have much to say, but as always: leave a review! I love those things! It makes me feel as if people actually read the pointless things I write.


	4. Home

**Home**

The prosecution attorney allows her speech to resonate through the room before taking her seat next to her client. The young woman hides her satisfaction behind an expressionless face. She watches the defense attorney stand before the audience and notices his confident, cool composure. She thinks how wrong he is as he begins to state his case.

She has heard of this man's name before: Kuchiki Byakuya—well known for his success rate in court trials. But even the merit his name bears does not alarm her because she knows his client is guilty.

Someone has to be.

So she serenely listens to his speech.

"Counselor Soi Fon's speech was certainly moving. And I can not deny that Hinamor-sani has faced some terrible ordeals that no girl should have to experience—let alone be aware of—at such a young age. But ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to forget about what Counselor Soi Fon has said for a moment, and look at my client.

"As of today, Hitsugaya Toushiro is nineteen years of age. Had he not been charged by these accusations, Hitsugaya-san would be in college, studiously working for a degree. Given a few more years, he will be able to find a career, find someone he loves, and care for a family of his own.

"But Hitsugaya-san's life has, instead, been interrupted. And depending on your decisions as jurors, Hitsugaya Toushiro may either continue with life pursuing happiness—as our founding fathers believed all humans have the right to own—or simply…stop."

Kuchiki Byakuya pauses to meet eyes with each pair of eyes. When he reaches the left side of the room, he stares seconds longer at the young woman. His indigo eyes continue to hold his glance as he speaks.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as you hear both the prosecutions and the defenses cases today, I will not ask you to "take sides". But I urge you to keep in mind that you have a young life in your hands. Please, judge Hitsugaya Toushiro not by who you pity.

"Judge Hitsugaya Toushiro by the truth."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_We became the center of attention—even I was adored for a while—among the orphans. They were more excited about our adoption than they were about the fake Santa that appeared at our door the Christmas before. _

_The only orphans who weren't excited about our adoption were us._

_You—who always openly feared change at the time—were at least slightly appeased by the fact that you would not be facing the frightening concept of an unpredictable future alone. But I, I was not._

_I had a bad feeling about Aizen Sousuke from the start. _

_It was more than just that stubborn distrust I always developed for every stranger I met—that's what you always scolded me for—there was an air about him that seemed deceiving. It was as if his smile—which seemed only benevolent and gentle—was there to hide a darker face._

_I kept my doubts to myself. After all, what could worrying you do? We were orphans; we had no control over our lives. We could not choose whether or not to be kept by our biological parents and therefore we could not choose who to be adopted by. _

_We were given thirty minutes to pack our belongings—which you and I didn't have much of anyway—and say goodbye; thirty minutes to wrap up the eight years of childhood memories I'd accumulated in the orphanage. Granny informed us that our new home would only be a thirty-minute drive from the orphanage, that you and I could visit them any time—but that was not the same. _

_I ended up packing faster than you, despite the fact that I was trying to delay our departure as much as possible. You seemed to want to take as many things as possible with you: the donated toys you received as presents, the petty gifts the orphans gave to us as last-minute goodbye presents… and even down to the potato-sack kimono Granny made for you. It made sense to me; I guessed that you wanted to take as much as home with you as possible._

_As an orphan, I had always imagined my adoption would be grand—something of a finale. I didn't know myself what I was expecting, but what actually happened didn't fit my visions. One moment, everyone was waving and wishing us good luck as we got into the man's car and took one last look at the little old-fashioned building we grew up in…_

_And then they were gone. _

_At that time, I usually despised looking back since it showed dependency on the past. But even when I wanted to look behind, I wasn't given the chance. By the time I had snapped out of my daze, the orphanage, along with Granny and all the other kids, were out of sight. No matter how much I squinted my eyes, I couldn't even make out the tiniest speck of our past._

_Aizen tried to converse with us while driving. I ignored him—I knew that he was trying to gain our trust and I wasn't going to fall for it—and instead passed time by observing the bits and pieces of scenery that blurred by the window. You, on the other hand, were always the proper-mannered one out of the two of us; so you replied to each of his questions._

"_It really is hot today. We should go stop by for some ice-cream sometime, would you two like that?"_

_That was the first thing he asked us. And while I stared at the waves of heat rolling over the horizon, you shyly nodded._

"_Even though the weather isn't that comfortable, I still like summer—it's my favorite season. Do you have a favorite season, Momo-chan?"_

_I remember how my dislike for him was magnified at that point for calling you Momo. I also remember thinking how stupid he was for asking such a lame question._

"_Spr-spring." You softly answered. I wished you hadn't said that; I wanted you to lie in order to keep him distant._

"_Ah…you must like flowers then."_

_Flowers were one of your favorite things in the world—you had a lot of favorite things—and you nodded; this time, to my irritation, more relaxed. _

"_I like cherry blossoms." You added softly. Pink was another one of your favorites._

_You two went on for a while. You told him about all your favorite things: rabbits, cake, rainbows, peaches…everything you told me when we first met. The more you talked, the more I sulked by the window. I stared at my scrawny reflection in the window until I noticed Aizen's eyes on me. _

"_What about you, Hitsugaya-kun? Do you have anything you like?"_

_I wanted to say "no" and tell him everything I hated—which included him. But that would be telling him the truth. So I stayed silent._

"_Shiro-kun likes winter. And candy." You spoke for me._

"_That's good. There's a candy shop nearby our house too; we can go grab some when we get back." You smiled at me; kind and sinister, patient yet eager, gentle yet stony…_

_It was a smile that still haunts me right now._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Our home—or his home since I never could bring myself to call it that—was a moderate, two-story house. It wasn't any larger than the orphanage, but because there weren't a dozen other annoying kids maniacally running around, it felt much bigger. Everything was newer and the air smelt emptier. _

_The both of us didn't know what to do with ourselves when Aizen turned on the lights. I was tempted to watch television for the first time but resisted in fear of looking like I felt at home—that was the last thing I wanted to look like in front of him._

_We stood in silence. Then Aizen brought up the: "we must be tired so he would show us our rooms and we could go to sleep" phrase. _

_You found your room yourself on first try, as if you were familiar to the building—something that surprised not only me but you as well. Your room was pink and filled with stuffed animals. On your nightstand was a cherry blossom bonsai tree. _

_It was as if he knew you before today. _

_I should've taken it as a warning sign. I'm not sure how or if it would've changed the way everything turned out. But I never suspected anything wrong at that time. I left you to familiarize yourself—I even failed to see the strange look of déjà-vu on your face._

_When Aizen showed me to my room, I already hated it before I saw it. It was downstairs—not near yours. It was no where near as kid-friendly as yours, and now that I think about it, it seemed less broken in. Your room looked as if it belonged to someone before, whereas mine looked new._

_To tell you the truth, I didn't really sleep in my new room that night: I slept on the rooftop—specifically the place nearest to your bedroom window. I couldn't bring myself to think that you were safe. You were the one who I once had to reassure that monsters didn't come out to get you in the dark, but that night—and for the rest of the nights—I was the one who needed reassuring. _

_There were so many warning signs, so many chances to realize what was going to happen to us. Being the twelve-year-old I was, I was naïve and could only tell that something was wrong._

_I was right, but I didn't know the magnitude of how accurate I would eventually become._

* * *

**A/N: I am actually very clueless when it comes to court trials; especially since I've never done anything bad enough to go to court. All text about the court proceedings are influenced by Jodi Picoult books and what I've seen on Law and Order... so I think they deserve some credit.**

**Of course, Tite Kubo deserves credit for creating his wonderful manga and Hitsugaya Toushiro, both of which I love very much. Sorry if I forgot about the disclaimer.**

**As always...review!**


	5. School

**School**

"The town would like to bring Unohana Retsu to the stand."

A middle aged woman is escorted to the witness's stand. She walks with a certain lithe and grace down the aisle. As she swears in and takes her seat, the young woman on the prosecution desk can not help but notice her long, braided hair touch the floor.

She breaks her glance away from the woman and watches her lawyer stride to the front of the room to begin questioning.

"Unohana-san, please describe your relationship with the suspect."

"Hitsugaya-kun was my student."

"How long did you teach him?"

"I taught his science class for two years. I was also his homeroom teacher."

"Can you describe the suspect's personality among his peers and in class?"

"Hitsugaya-kun was…quite talented, but he was also slightly more introverted. I don't remember him making after-school plans with the other students."

"So he was generally calm and reticent?"

"Yes."

"Was he always like that?"

She looks sadly over to the young man, who has yet to look at anything else but his shoes.

"Well…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_We spent the last month of summer adjusting to our new lives. The house wasn't big, so it took me a day to explore and memorize its halls and rooms. If you walked in from the front door and walked down the short hall in front of you, you'd reach the kitchen. To your right would be the family room and if you walked further to the left you would reach the dining room…_

_No matter how much I try, I still can't rid myself of any of the memories; every place and moment is still crystal clear._

_I remember that I did eventually succumb to my desire to watch television later on in the first week. That month was full of firsts for me: First new bike (my very own), first unused toys (that I hated), first taste of fast-food (a luxury that was unaffordable at the orphanage), and my first room—which I still had not slept in._

_Any orphan would've loved to have the things I received. But compared to your gifts, mine were insignificant in both number and quality. _

_Aizen clearly liked you better. I didn't blame him for it—after all, you were cute, charming, and naïve while I was quiet, stubborn, and grouchy (in front of him). You were his original pick—I was only excess wrapping paper and ribbons he had to carry to get the gift. That didn't mean he treated me unkindly—but my suspicions for him never left._

_Living with a normal family was different. Although he had given us a week to explore our neighborhood in terms of location and people, we eventually fell into a routine. We got up at 7 every morning for chores. Aizen left for work half and hour later. Although not completely legal, we were left home alone to split the chores among ourselves. We would be free to spend the afternoon however we liked and Aizen would return by late evening. _

_He returned later and later as the month progressed. His breath became more and more pungent of a funny smell—which I now know was alcohol. He seemed aloof and detached those particular days, and any wrong move would make him angry. You—who had developed a strong sense of trust for him by then—seriously thought that you did something to deserve his yelling. But I took it as just another reason to distrust him. On those nights, I would have to reassure you that you did nothing wrong. By the next mornings, everything would be okay again—Aizen would be the loving, caring father you truly believed he was._

_We didn't have a foster mother to defend us on his "bad nights". You asked him where she was once and he avoided the question. You also tried asking him the first "bad night" we witnessed—he shouted you off. Eventually, we were told that she died in a tragic accident and learned never to talk about her in front of Aizen. You fantasized about our foster mother all the time; on the afternoons when Aizen was gone, you would tell me the stories you made up about a beautiful, gentle woman that Aizen fell in love with. _

_I later learned that the beautiful, gentle foster mother you loved so much died from something far from an accident._

_I hated summer: it meant nothing but days of blinding sunlight, sweaty people, and oppressive heat. But that year, I learned to despise autumn even more—because that was the autumn we first started public school._

_As orphans, we were never given a "proper" education. Granny would give us a few lessons in mathematics and read to us as a group. You and I were never given much attention—unlike the others who couldn't even count without using their fingers or comprehend words without pictures, we could understand the subjects at our grade level. But the donations the orphanage received were generally educational materials for younger children, so we were left on our own. _

_I took advantage of my skills by slacking off. Being the lazy kid I was, I used my talents as an excuse to skip Granny's lessons and do nothing. You, on the other hand, loved learning—during the time I spent lounging around, you spent writing stories or reading books._

_That was probably why, when Aizen told us on the last week of summer that we were going to start going to school, you were so ecstatic. That week, you wouldn't stop talking about how fun it was going to be and what you wanted to learn. The concept of school irritated me: after all, I hated crowds and senseless chatter, which is exactly what school would provide. But at the same time, I was glad that school would present you and me a chance to escape from Aizen's eye. _

_We were required to take the district's entrance exams to determine our class levels for each subject. I remembered how you spent nights studying for this while I took no initiative. I also remember—when you asked me for help on a math question (math and sciences were your least favorite subjects)—asking you why you even bothered. You told me that you wanted to make sure we were in the same class. _

_I teased you and said that if you kept studying so much, you would be a whole grade ahead of me._

_I was wrong._

_I tested two grades ahead of you and was placed as a first year in Karakura High School. You were placed as a third year in Karakura Middle School._

_When we were given this information via mail, your excitement dissipated; my dislike grew along with a new seed of concern. We both realized our chances of being in same classes were abated down to zero—I would not be by your side._

_I saw the disappointment in your face and turned to Aizen—I waited for him to call the school board and insist that I receive the average 12-year-old education for the sake of cheering you up. But instead, I saw him smile by the kitchen doorway._

_I saw the look of satisfaction._

_XXXXXXXXX_

_I always thought of myself as an independent person. I thought that I could handle any on my own and that I enjoyed being alone. But on the first day of school, I realized how accustomed I had become with having you by my side. You were always a head's turn away from me, and suddenly without you there, there was a hole beside me. _

_There was no one to turn to, no one to talk to, no where to seem to belong to while I walked down the hallways to find my homeroom. Everyone else around me was both at least two years older and three inches taller (that was where you wouldn't have helped me feel any better). I was good at keeping my expression aloof and calm, but to tell you the truth, I was as nervous as hell. _

_I did find my way to my homeroom without any trouble. By the end of the first period, I became the kid I was before I met you—quiet and cold. Even if I was 12, I wasn't naïve. I knew about the cruelties of school: the teasing, the groupies, the rumors. I believed that these kids—with their untarnished pasts and carefree lives—were not the same as you or me._

_Nonetheless, by lunch time, I was starting to yearn for your presence. I always faked that I couldn't care less for you, but truthfully, I worried for you constantly. You were, indeed, sweet, honest, and friendly—but terribly naïve, shy, and dependent. I couldn't trust you to keep yourself unharmed without me right next to you. _

_Luckily, our schools were situated right next to each other and only separated by a wire fence; this was to keep the older students from terrorizing and exercising superiority over the younger students. Since I was supposed to belong in that school anyway, I could climb over the fence easily without being picked out as a high school student._

_I was eager to see if you were okay: did any one hurt you? Was everyone nice? Were you lonely? When I got past the fence, I tried to search for you—your warm brown pigtails (which too many girls had), your timid stance (which would've been masked by all the hyperactive kids running around), your cheery aura…But I could find no sign of you._

_That was when I panicked and knew something was wrong. _

_That was also when I noticed three older high school students jumping off the fence and intruding on middle school grounds. I recognized them as the students that were fooling around at the corner of the hallway earlier—they were the ones that mentioned something about "scaring the shit out of the little brats and showing them who was boss"._

_I would've let them go and minded my own business. I would've assumed that who ever they bullied wouldn't affect my life in any way. But then I heard your whimpers and your small cries for help. _

_Then those jerks became my business._

_I chased your tiny voice and found you cornered to the wall at the back of the school. You weren't telling them to leave you alone or anything. You were just crying. _

_You know how I mentioned before that I later figured out that I couldn't handle seeing you cry? I had already figured that out by then. _

_So what could've I done but just beat the shit out of them?_

_At first, they were unfazed by my entrance. Even with my menacing "Touch her once and I'll make you pay!" _

_To them, I was a pip-squeak. A middle-school student. A weakling. So they laughed. They mocked me and made the mistake of yanking your pigtails and kicking you down to the ground._

_What happened next, I am sorry that you had to watch. I never apologized about it before, so I will now. I never intended to scare or worry you—I only wanted to keep you safe. _

_I hated those low-lives for scaring you and creating a bad memory for you. And I made them pay. Being in the fray myself, I couldn't get a good view of things. But you must have seen a lot—or rather, too much. _

_When I was about to punch one of the bastards for the umpteenth time, I felt your arm on me and your voice sniffle: "Shiro-chan, please stop." _

_And your voice, filled with fright, was enough to vanquish the anger took over me. I looked down at my tightened fists and saw how dirty they were with blood that didn't belong to me. I remember seeing the black eyes, knocked out teeth, and bruises on my near-unconscious victims and wondering: did I do that? _

_Then the bell rang, and I turned to you. You were, on the outside, fine—your pigtails were just slightly messed up and your shin showed a slight threat of an emerging bruise. But the look in your eyes while they were on made me hate myself. Whatever amount fright those three jerks gave you wasn't nearly as bad as the one I had instilled._

"_I-I have to go." And you started to turn and run from me—the monster._

_And I, being the selfish person who wanted some comfort when I didn't deserve it, desperately used my dirtied hands to grab your arm and tell you to "wait"._

_But then I heard:_

"_Hitsugaya-kun?"_

_I turned and looked up to find the stunned face of my homeroom teacher._

_And in the reflection from her eyes, I saw me with three students pounded mercilessly and an innocent girl frightened to death. _


	6. Bruises

**Bruises**

The young woman listens in satisfaction as Unohana Retsu describe her accounts. She does not remember these experiences, but they make sense—so she fools herself into remembering them. She pretends that she can recall every bruise, cut, and scar the witness is asked to tell by the attorney.

When her lawyer is done questioning the woman, she sees Kuchiki Byakuya stand up. She wonders smugly how the defense attorney could make his client seem innocent after all Unohana Retsu had stated.

"Unohana-san, your descriptions sound awfully drastically in terms of the amount of damage a mere twelve year old could impair on three high school seniors that were at least six-inches taller, don't they?—

"Objection. He can't accuse my client of lying." Soi Fon interrupts.

"But did Hitsugaya-san continue to do this—that is, involve himself in brawls?" Byakuya ignores the prosecution attorney.

"Hitsugaya-kun didn't get along very well with many of the upper classmen. He had a few physical fights with them after the incident with Hinamori-chan. But not to the same degree of violence."

"Was Hinamori-san present at those other brawls?"

"No."

"You also failed to answer my question: did Hitsugaya-san continue to get involved in school violence?"

"Well, no. After the first two months, he stopped."

"You said that Hitsugaya-san had his fair share of injuries in his first fight. Did he receive any in his other fights?"

"Yes. Hitsugaya-kun came to school with bruises, burns, cuts, and scars."

"And when he stopped fighting, did the bruises stop?"

Unohana hesitates and answers:

"No."

* * *

_We were driven back home that day. You wouldn't say a word and I was at loss for what to say. That drive seemed as long as hours when in reality, it was probably only five minutes. _

_When Aizen came to pick the two of us up from school, we didn't receive a single greeting—not even the typical "how was the first day of school?" question. He apologized to the principal for the trouble I had caused with the same smile that feigned courtesy._

_He kept a smile in the car too, and even with all the hatred and suspicion I contained for him before, I couldn't help but doubt myself then. After what had happened, I started to think that maybe I was the one with something. Maybe he was truly a loving foster father. Maybe I was the monster out of all three of us. _

_He had me fooled for those five minutes._

_When the growling of the car engine subsided, and the garage door closed us off from the orange glow of evening, I noticed a chilling darkness cross over his face. Still in wallowing in my self-doubt-and-hatred, I ignored it as just a simple illusion I created to excuse myself for being a terrible person. _

_I got out of the car and was about to walk into the house when my nose exploded in pain. I must have lost consciousness for a few seconds, because I lost all my senses and they slowly came back one by one. _

_First came the throbbing of my head, which eventually resonated like a noisy echo to the rest of my body. When I tried to pinpoint the exact area causing the pain, my fingers went to the bridge of my nose, which was broken from the impact. I could taste the metallic flavor of my own blood that dribbled from my blood. Eventually, my sight returned and I realized that I was own the ground—I couldn't tell whether or not the giant pool of darkness in my lap was my blood or one of the holes that deteriorated my vision._

_Finally, my ears began to pick up sound—it first came as a whisper, but became louder and louder until it woke me up from my state of shock. It was undeniably your scream._

"_Shiro-chan!" _

_I could do nothing to calm you. My body wouldn't move, no matter how much my mind screamed to run. So my mind had no choice but to watch as Aizen knelt down and breathe his threat into my face._

"_An eye for an eye, Hitsugaya-kun." His face was so close that I could see my irises shake uncontrollably in my eyes from the reflection of his glasses. "You are simply being punished for what you have done."_

_I felt him pick me up by the collar and braced myself for another blow. I heard a cry and the sound of a hand, but felt nothing. _

_That was when I realized that my lack of pain wasn't due to the numbness of my body; it was due to the fact that I wasn't hit. _

_I opened my eyes and saw my worst nightmare: you, on the ground with an angry red imprint on your left cheek. You had protected me. _

"_Sh-shiro-chan was protecting me. Tho-those boys were b-bullying me. Pl-please don't hurt him." You stuttered between spasms of fear and pain._

_I saw you, hurt, useless, protecting me—who was supposed to be protecting you. Then I saw Aizen—who was just as shocked as I was—standing, merciless, and cruel. Seeing that he was unguarded, seeing you hurt, being angry at myself for not being able to prevent it somehow…they were all reasons I found to ignore the state of my body and lose myself in violence. I threw myself at Aizen, trying to make him pay for what he did to me—and more importantly, to you._

_But I was too weak, and he only picked my up by the lapels, and let me calm down. I did, because I realized that the last thing I wanted to become was the monster I was before. It was that monster, after all, that brought this upon us. And as I ponder about it now, I think it may had been possible to avoid that whole episode had it not been for my—the monster inside of me's—behavior that day._

_Aizen calmed you down and apologized profusely. He promised you it would never happen again, and that he was wrong to have hit you. He told you to go up to your room and you did—and to this day I'm not sure whether it was out of trust that he truly was sorry, or fear of disobeying him. _

_But I do know that after you left, he turned to me and calmly told me to follow him into the kitchen. I did—and I foolishly expected the same apology he had given you. Instead of hearing sorry, I heard:_

"_Put your hands on the stove, Hitsugaya-kun."_

_And I—who had yet learned to expect the worst out of people—obeyed. I watched him turn the heat on the stove. I didn't understand the purpose of this until my hands began to sting with heat._

"_Don't take them off until I tell you so." _

_I knew my disadvantages—my body was weak from the events of the day, and my mind was numb from the prior scene. Fighting back would draw your attention and scare you again as well. So what could I do but just endure the pain? I silently held back my tears and swallowed my pride. Perhaps doing that hurt even more than the surface of my palms, burning on the black surface of the stove. _

_I even looked towards Aizen—maybe even for mercy. But I received a calm smile—a frightening shadow of a smile that haunts me to this day. _

"_This will teach you not to use your hands with me."_

_That night was the first night I spent in my bedroom. With my hands burned by several minutes—felt like hours—of Aizen's punishment, I couldn't touch anything without feeling needles stabbing through my palms. I couldn't sleep on the roof, since that required using my hands to push myself up._

_Instead, I sat on the edge of my mattress, wide awake, in fear of the monsters of the night that could appear from the shadows and suffocate me. _

_

* * *

_

Aizen kept his promise: he never hit you again. The handprint on your cheek faded after a day, but the bruise that day left on you—I guess—never left. And—I know—I will never forgive myself for letting that happen.

_You were fine by the next day—smiley and cheery. I played along with you, glad that the you I so badly wanted to protect hadn't disappeared. I never told you about my incident. I never showed you the fresh burn marks on my palm. I endured picking up a pencil, holding a spoon, washing my hands, in front of you. I eventually learned to do this at school as well._

_My hands healed by the end of the month, but there were other injuries that replaced the first—all of them injuries that I made sure to hide from you. Aizen never made a promise with me, so he didn't have to worry about punishing me. "for being disrespectful", "for being ungrateful", "for looking at him the wrong way"…the reasons for punishment were endless and sometimes petty, so petty that I wanted to lash back, but then I was reminded of your face the day I hurt those three guys and I swallowed my anger._

_You were completely oblivious to this: a success on both Aizen's part and mine. It seemed like Aizen wanted to keep you as innocent as possible, just like me—but it was later that I realized the intent behind his actions. Aizen always made sure to punish me when you were away, whether it was with when you were with friends, sent on an errand, or told to go to sleep._

_But my part—hiding the results of Aizen's wrath—eventually became hard to complete. I could always try keeping one side of my body away from you to hide a particular bruise, but I began to wear more than one injury at once. Plus, while you were one person, school consisted of dozens. My peers began noticing the purple marks and scars. Teachers began telling me: "if there is anything I need to talk about…" I did need to talk about something. If I could, I would've told them everything. But doing so would hurt the beautiful world I worked so hard for you to keep living in. So I kept my mouth clamped._

_I eventually learned to use make-up—even before you discovered it. I learned to use blush, foundation, and all of that stuff to hide the physical pain on my skin. It was too bad I couldn't use the same thing to heal what hurt on the inside._

**

* * *

**

A/N: When I try to put astrerisks or x's to try to indicate breaks into the text, it never works and disappears when I click the "save" button on the Doc Manager. I never wanted to use to line thingy in the story because I thought it chopped up the text too much. But since the Doc Manager is stupid, I'll give in and use the dumb lines from now on.

**Sorry I took longer than usual to get this uploaded. I got side tracked by reading the new addition of the Hunger Games: Mockingjay (!).**

**Review!**


	7. Trust

**Trust**

"Nothing more, Your Honor." And with that, defense attorney Kuchiki Byakuya returns to his seat.

The school teacher is allowed to take her leave. While she is escorted by two officers down the aisle, she cannot help but glance at the young man staring at his lap. Her lips part, as if to whisper something, but all that comes out is silence and her eyes—tinted with the color of uncertainty—turn away.

"The town would like to call Tousen Kaname to the stand."

Two other escorts arrive with a new witness—a dark skinned man with strikingly pupil-less eyes. He swears in somehow finds his way to the witness's stand on his own.

Offense attorney Soi Fon begins her questioning. "Tousen-san, how did you come to know Hitsugaya Toushiro?"

"I was his school guidance counselor." He replies in a deep, soft voice. "His teachers began strongly recommending that he saw me after a few months he started school."

"Did Hitsugaya-san often discuss his life, his emotions with you?"

"Toushiro-san was very reluctant about talking to me, but he eventually opened up."

"Tousen-san, it mentions in your file that you have a degree in child psychiatry. Could you tell us, based on your sessions with Hitsugaya-san, your diagnosis on the suspect?"

"Toushiro-san had a…complex personality. He never experienced family as a young orphan and therefore couldn't accept a happy life when he was given one. He pushed away people who offered him kindness and disillusioned himself into believing that his life was filled with hardships."

"What about Aizen Sousuke? Could you tell us your thoughts on Hitsugaya Toushiro's relationship with Aizen Sousuke."

"From what I heard from Toushiro-san, it seemed as if he simply couldn't believe that he had a kind, loving foster father. He fooled himself into believing that Aizen-san was abusive and cruel when in reality, it was the opposite."

"Is there a name to this disorder?"

The young man at the defense table stiffens as he feels a pair of blank, vast eyes bore into his body.

"Oh no, Soi Fon-san. There is no such disorder. Toushiro-kun's personality just naturally makes him dangerous."

* * *

"_Shiro-chan, you're going to catch a cold if you keep staying out here."_

_The night you told me this was an icy, clear night in December—just the kind of weather I liked. I remember the exact position of the stars that night too. I can tell you where Orion was, the number of lights flickering in the city, the shape my breath took when it turned white in the air…that's because that was the first night we spent together on the roof._

_When I looked down and saw you peering up from your window, I wanted to ask you how long had you known that I was spending my nights there—was my stealth that bad? Or was it you who had become less oblivious? Less of the innocent girl I wanted to protect so badly?_

_But I was 12 at the time—soon to be 13 in a week—and therefore, hid my thoughts behind a façade of irritation and gruff. _

"_I'm fine." I replied. "Stop worrying about me." _

_But you ignored my words and climbed up to join me. You also brought a blanket to share—the one you took with you from the orphanage, pink and stitched with rabbits. _

"_I never said I needed a blanket." I mumbled and looked away._

_You wrapped it around the two of us. "I know. I know. You like the cold. But even Shiro-chan can get sick." _

_I didn't reply. Actually, I don't think either of us said another word that night. It didn't feel awkward—you seemed at ease too. I guess just being next to each other was enough. _

_From that night on, we spent late nights on the roof. Although I didn't admit it back then, I was grateful for your company. You provided me with the escape from the harsh loneliness I endured at school and gave me the will to tolerate Aizen's tortures. We would talk about our days, our feelings, or anything. Some moments, I almost forgot about my aching body, the weight I had lost from stress, the worries that burdened me. At those moments, I would think that we were orphans again—safe, loved, and cared for._

_You liked to talk about school. You eventually made yourself a place—you joined clubs and brought over friends. When you talked about this with a smile, I was—at first—jealous. But eventually that jealousy gave way to relief—you were happy. In fact, there were times when I used your happiness to cheer myself up—that was whenever I found myself feeling empty during school. _

_I never spoke much about my day during our nightly chats. There wasn't much to say. I liked listening to your life much better; sometimes, after you would fall asleep on me and I would carry you back into your room, I would dream about being you on the roof. On those nights, I would wake up with a smile on my face the next morning._

_But then we would go separate ways and through separate doors. And once the bell rang and the day began, the emptiness would begin all over again._

_

* * *

_

They—the students and the teachers—finally started noticing me by the middle of January. My classmates started to whisper about what a "loner" I was. The teachers started to seriously worry about the bruises and scars I wore—the ones that were too hard to conceal with make-up.

_There were tons of rumors about me—too many to recall. But I do remember that one freshman asked me if I was a masochist. That was the funniest one out of all the rumors, which I took as jokes to rate. _

_The teachers had rumors of their own—more accurate ones. They tried convincing me to talk to someone, but I kept my mouth shut: Aizen was smart; he knew that you were my weakness. If I said anything, you would be the one to pay._

_By then, I had started to commit myself to my studies. I drove out the childish laze: essays, projects, tests…I worked hard to earn the top score for all of them in hope of getting a good future: one free from Aizen. _

_My teachers noticed my earnest desire to maintain high grades, so naturally, they used them as a bait to lure me into the guidance counselor's office—where I could talk to someone. They threatened to drop my grades, which in turn—to their oblivion—threatened my only hope of escaping. So I went._

_I remember the intense hatred I felt for my teachers when I entered the guidance counselor's for the first time. I remember thinking how stupid they were for believing that talking to some random stranger would magically fix the damages in my life—like some sort of ripped shirt that can be mended with a needle. I thought how wrong they would be proven when I would walk out the same as always—cold and wearing a broken life._

_My counselor's name was Tousen Kaname. His appearance is one of the clearest ones in my memory: it was hard not to forget him with his exotic dark skin and mysterious eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He told me, when I sat down across from him, to call him by his first name._

_I told him he was retarded to think that I would consider him a friend._

_And he asked, in a soft, calm voice that I'd bet all shrinks had: "Why is that?"_

_I came to hear that a lot from him. He always had a question for everything I said. For the first few sessions, I thought I could frustrate him by saying random things. But in the end, he ended up frustrating me—he was too patient. Even silence would be okay with him. In fact, there were days when I'd just sulk in the chair for a full hour and a half with him waiting for me to talk. _

_It was by the third week of my "therapy" that I got sick of everything and told him: "You're stupid. You can't even get anything meaningful out of my mouth. I don't even get why they hired you. You're ugly, retarded, and nothing but a no-good-shrink." _

"_You're right; I must certainly not be eye-appealing."_

_I was drawn aback: this was something other than the typical "why is that?" or "why do you feel that way?"_

"_But I can't see that for myself, because you see Toushiro-san (He insisted on calling me by first name)," He took off his glasses to reveal a pair of blank, white, pupil-less eyes. "I'm blind."_

_I don't know why I said it. Perhaps I felt obliged to show some sympathy—maybe I had a shred of courtesy in me after all. But I stammered: "I'm s-sorry." And then I offered: "One of the kids at my orphanage was blind too."_

"_Was he your friend?"_

"_Not really."_

"_Why is that?"_

"_He was nice, but I had another friend."_

"_And who was that?"_

_I realized that I was starting to answer his questions truthfully and wanted to stop. But I looked at his eyes and thought about how painful it must be to be unable to see. I thought about how he must have suffered, just like I was suffering then. I developed a small hope that maybe—just maybe—he could be trusted and understand me. _

_Then, of course, maybe I was subconsciously desperate for someone to relieve my secrets to—someone to hold all the darkness that I had stomached for months._

"_Hinamori," I answered after a minute of hesitation, "Hinamori Momo."_

_

* * *

_

I learned to trust him—Tousen Kaname. He became Kaname-san to me. He was quiet, attentive, and contemplative. He waited when I wasn't ready to talk about some things and then listened when I wanted to say it.

_Over the next five months, I visited him three times a week. That was the deal my teachers struck with me, but I ended up surpassing my end of the bargain and went to Tousen four—sometimes five—times a week. _

_After the day he revealed his blindness to me, my desperate side began to nurture the seed of hope that I could free myself from Aizen. That seed sprouted each time I visited Tousen and told him about my friendship with you. It grew as I told him trivial things such as my hobbies, my dislikes, my fears. There were times when, in retrospect, I would ask myself why I was making myself vulnerable to a stranger who could be trying to harm me. But at those times, the other side of me would recognize that my nightly talks with you weren't enough—I needed more time to feel free. _

_Then, I finally told him about Aizen. I told him everything about him. I thought then that Tousen somehow would find a way to free us. _

_I was so foolish._

_The day I revealed the secrets that kept you safe was a Friday, and I woke up the next morning on a Saturday crushed with disappointment: everything was still the same. Come to think of it now, I didn't really have an idea how Tousen would've freed us from Aizen. I simply thought that it was going to happen—and the matter of "how" didn't matter. _

_I was so convinced that he was on my side that I snuck out of the house to visit him at his house address he gave me. I don't know why I wasn't suspicious about how easy it was to escape from Aizen's watchful eye that day. I don't know how I didn't notice that the car Aizen drove was gone. But when I saw that very same car on the driveway of my destination, I was frozen with shock._

_I double checked the handwriting, but there was no mistake. I was about to double check the license plate when I heard the front door open. I dove into the bushes nearby and watched my hopes burn into ashes. I watched Aizen and Tousen chat like old friends. _

_I heard bits and pieces of my secrets—what was supposed to be between me and Tousen only—scattered in their conversation. I heard the boy I kept to myself from Aizen become slowly exposed with each word Tousen said. _

_And finally, I heard Aizen say, "Thank you, Kaname. I'm glad for your help." And I saw him turn in my direction with that very same smile he gave me the first time he hit me: the smile that promised punishment. It was as if he could see through my shield of foliage—as if his eyes were daggers piercing through my heart._

_As soon as his car left the driveway, I dashed home to you. While I ran home having images of you helpless and hurt, I hated myself for feeling betrayed. How could I have let someone get so close to me? How could I have been so naïve? How could I have stupidly endangered you like that? _

_When I burst through the door—without checking the garage for the car—I saw you, safe and clueless. My knees almost buckled with relief—with you safe, my biggest fear was gone. _

_Aizen returned late that day—which was odd since it was a Saturday and he usually stayed home those days. It gave me an opportunity to think of a way to defend you—which I later learned was unnecessary because he never touched you. Perhaps it was to torture me, to make me wonder when it was going to happen—when I was going to have to pay the ultimate price for my broken silence. But it never happened._

_Instead, I was only forced to swallow ammonia—which kept me sick for days—and endure a few blows at the mouth. This time, unlike a majority of the others, I felt that I deserved this punishment for reasons of my own:_

_Each bruise at the mouth was punishment for trying to relieve myself of my responsibilities of keeping you safe and enduring my own pain. Each lurch of my stomach and gag was for naively believing that people could be trusted._

_So in between punches and vomiting, I vowed never to trust anyone with my hidden life again._

**

* * *

**

A/N: Longer chapter this time, I know, I know. I could've split it into two parts, but I figured that it worked better as one whole chapter rather than two.

**Review please!**

**Hn...I realized that school is coming up for me next week...now I can only write on weekends...**


	8. Paths

**Paths**

Kuchiki Byakuya crosses paths with Soi Fon as the prosecution attorney hands the floor over to him.

The defense attorney looks into the vast eyes of the witness, noticing pale gray rings encompassing the area where pupils would've been. But the witness doesn't notice his staring. Instead, he seems to be looking right through the counselor.

"Tousen Kaname."

"Yes." The man replies, noticing the difference in presence.

"Why did Hitsugaya-san come to you?"

"His teachers found him abnormally lonesome, so they suggested him to me."

"And?"

"And?" The man calmly repeats.

"Well, it also says in the statements that each of Hitsugaya-san's teachers noticed a series of injuries on his body. They suspected domestic abuse."

"Well, yes."

"Did Hitsugaya-san tell you who?"

"Yes, but like I said, he had a very disillusioned mind-

"Who did he say did it to him?"

He hesitates to answer, "Aizen Sousuke-san."

"And what did you do when he told you this?"

Nothing. No words come from his lips.

"Let me try another question then: Hitsugaya went to you for seven months and abruptly stopped: why?"

"His teachers prescribed him a certain amount of time with me: he was only obliged to come to me for that amount of time."

"That's a lie, Tousen-san—I warn you that you are in court here. All of Hitsugaya's teachers' witness statements said that they suggested three months of therapy with you."

The blind man remains silent.

"So I'll ask you again, Tousen-san. It goes without saying that Hitsugaya-san found you trustable enough to talk to you—that he told you many, many things-

"Objection. That's speculation, Your Honor." Soi Fon insists.

"I'll allow it. Continue."

"So why did he stop? What did you do to make him stop trusting you?" The defense attorney presses.

Silence. The man opens no window to his thoughts.

"So Hitsugaya-san was visibly being hurt by someone, went to see you about it, told you that his foster father—Sousuke Aizen—was hurting him and Hinamori Momo, and you did nothing about it?

"And so Hitsugaya Toushiro and Hinamori Momo continued to be abused?"

"Counselor, the witness is not on trial here." Judge Yamamoto reminds him.

"Nothing more."

_

* * *

_

We started to grow apart: you slowly began to slip away from me—just as I had from you. Although, our reasons were different—your distance was due to the serenity of your life I didn't have, mine was due to the secrets I hid from you—the result was still the same.

_I knew—even at that time—that you were not to blame. You were living a happy life, one that you deserved. I was the one who pushed you away when you tried to get close, in fear that you would discover the wounds in my life I worked so hard to hide._

_School life played a part in our slow separation as well. On the nights you would talk about your life at school, I would find myself lost; listening to your accounts wasn't the same as sharing them with you. And so, I became something I thought would never happen—I became somewhat of a stranger to your life. _

_It was our school lives that proved to me how different we were—when I compared the two, I even wondered once how we were ever friends. You drew beautiful art pieces that made your art club members jealous. I became the ace of the snowboarding team. You joined the cooking club. I joined the soccer team. You read books with your friends afterschool in the library. I defended myself from upper classmen who hated me—for reasons I never understood why, but accepted—in alleyways. _

_I met your friends once—at least, two of the closer ones you had among many. If I recall correctly, their names were Kira Izuru and Abarai Renji. It was the summer I realized just how distant we had become that I met them—the summer we were thirteen. _

_The three of us—your new friends and I—didn't take an immediate liking to each other. Kira and Abarai already knew about my reputation as an "icy loner-slash-genius". I, on the other hand, never heard about the two before. But I judged them immediately when I saw them return home with you—who had a broken ankle and had to be carried._

_My stony expression dissolved into a mixture of confusion and relief when I noticed that you were laughing with those guys—that was when I realized that they were friends. I hated them at first for that. I despised them for posing a threat to our friendship. Even at thirteen, I wasn't mature enough to learn how to share. _

_I tried to find faults with them. Kira was too twitchy and hesitant—which I later learned was because he was intimidated by my cold personality. Abarai looked like a gangster with his red hair tied in a ponytail—but I was mainly jealous of the fact that he was two heads taller than me, even at my same age. _

_I forced myself to be happy for you—I forced myself to the extent that my fake feelings became genuine. Once I saw you three studying and laughing with such blithe, I became convinced that this was better for you—Kira and Abarai were good kids. They provided you with a door to a normal life, a reason to smile lightheartedly—which was more than I could do for you._

_We stopped meeting each other at the fence during lunch that year, making it one of the loneliest school years I had. At first, you asked for my permission to eat with your other friends. And on those first few times, I let you go—even though the rest of the person inside me desperately wanted you to stay—and watched your back as you disappeared into the crowd. You invited me each time, but I declined in fear of feeling left out. _

_Slowly, you started to stop visiting the fence altogether. Correspondingly, I slowly had nothing to look forward to. My usual eating spot at the fence was shifted to the rooftop of the school, where I sometimes could make out your face among many friends—which didn't include me. _

_I was reluctant to leave the fork in the road we started on as orphans. I wanted to linger and watch you take the path I couldn't—just in case you fell and needed help, or maybe if you wanted to return. But finally, I began to walk down a path of my own._

_A new friendship snuck up on me in the form of a sophomore named Kurosaki Ichigo. I think you had seen him before when you eventually entered high school—orange hair (that looks died but he claims it's natural), tall, athletic? But anyway, he had been in my homeroom since the first day of school. We never talked; it took about a year, and a fight, to get us to finally do so._

_You see, I haven't told you about the other vow I made to never fight anyone again. I made that vow the night after burning my hands on the stove. It was a vow inscribed into my heart out of fear—not of Aizen's punishments, but instead, of becoming the monster that scared you that day I hurt those three bullies. _

_Those three assholes never stopped harassing me; actually, they brought more upper classmen to do so. They took turns beating me up. At first, I blocked their blows in my best effort. But the quantity began to tire me out, so I ultimately gave up and let them get what they wanted. Actually, I never really understood what they wanted from me; whatever it was, they always wanted more._

_This continued until Kurosaki stepped in one day. He and his friend Sado Yasutora did what I couldn't—or wouldn't allow myself to do. I didn't ask them to—I hated admitting weakness—but I was nearing unconsciousness. _

"_Yo, Toushiro, are you alright?" I could barely see him through my heavy eye-lids._

"_How do you know me?" I mumbled._

"_Your welcome." I could make out a grin on his face._

_That was our first encounter. He insisted on helping me back home, but I adamantly refused. I didn't want anyone learning about Aizen._

_It took me the next day to realize that my savior was a classmate three seats away. Kurosaki and I started nodding greetings to one another. I thought that was the closest form of friendship I was ever going receive—and at the time, I was actually happy about it. That was until he invited me to join him for lunch._

_You probably know this already, but changes are never noticeable until you compare the past with the present. When I started accepting Kurosaki's invitations, I also rejected them once and a while, unused to the friendly chatter. Those rejections slowly dissipated; one day I looked up at the rooftop and realized that it had been months since I had ate there alone—months since I watched you jealously. _

_I felt guilty when I thought about this, but every time I did, the feeling would be replaced with a sense of belonging when one of my friends—my own friends—called my name. _

"_Toushiro." You used to be the only exception when it came to calling me by first name; Kurosaki never listened to me—he always called me by first name no matter how much I corrected him. _

"_Hitsugaya." Sado (or "Chad", but I thought that name was a bit too juvenile) and Ishida respected my wishes more and called me that. The two were quiet in their own ways: Sado was a bit mellow while Ishida had a slight air of arrogance about him, which often led to petty quarrels between him and Kurosaki (along with me, occasionally). _

_Kuchiki Rukia also went by my last name as well. Although normally serious and level-headed, she would become goofy with Orihime and call me "Hi-chan" with her just to tick me off. _

_The satisfaction that came when hearing my name renewed my fire to endure the tortures that waited for me at home. Sometimes, visions of being with Kurosaki and the others at our regular spot under the tree alternated with images of talking with you on the rooftop when Aizen beat me whatever he could use. _

_Perhaps I was selfish, or just too weak to handle everything on my own, but I shouldn't have taken my own path; because when I turned away, I failed to notice the darkness that eventually began to lurk around you. I failed to save you from the shadows._

_

* * *

_

The revelation of how far our paths strayed from one another came to me the night of your first sleepover. You were invited to a movie night at some friend's house—was it Kotetsu Kiyone? This left me alone—sleepovers were not cool with guys—with Aizen. Of course, you didn't know the full threat of the situation—how could you when both Aizen and I made sure that you weren't present for my punishments? You thought that Aizen was a gentle, loving foster father. You weren't to blame.

_But the moment I watched the door close on your smiling face telling me "good night"—the moment I saw the dark smile creep on Aizen's face—I grasped the significance of your leave._

_Aizen always made sure to beat me with certain restrictions. He made his lessons as silent as possible, which also limited the amount of pain he could punish me with. But without you, there was no one to keep quiet for. _

_So he didn't keep quiet. Describing the pain he gave to me is impossible. How can I tell you the humiliation I felt when he blindfolded me and made me guess where he was going to hit my body with a glass bottle next? How can I tell you about the defeat I felt when he permanently crushed my right hand—the one I used to write and earn the grades in school to help us flee? How can I tell you about the screams that escaped from my mouth when he carved the word: "obedience" into my back with a carving knife when I could barely recognize them myself?_

_Perhaps the worst part of it all was looking at the damages done in the morning, when the sun rose and I finally woke up from the shadows of unconsciousness. Looking at myself in the mirror…that was the first time I cried. First it came as occasional tears for the bony, eye-sunken boy I couldn't identify anymore. Then another tear for my swollen face. Then another for the hand I could no longer use anymore. Another for my stinging back…_

_And then they wouldn't stop coming; I couldn't stop finding reasons to shed another tear. I even came down to crying for not being able to stop crying. _

_I hid in my own bed for the rest of the day—this extended on into the rest of the week. I threw the untouched sheets over me to hide my pathetic body. I didn't bother to answer the door when you returned._

"_Toushiro-kun?" You called my name. I stifled my stupid sobbing noises._

"_Toushiro-kun?" When you finally found me in my room, I tried to fake sleeping. You must have fell for it, even though I still don't understand how because by then, I found another reason for bawling my eyes out—you were home. You sighed and giggled:_

"_Oh Toushiro, it's ten already. Get up lazy-head!" You playfully teased and walked over to throw the sheets off._

"_Go away!" I muffled under the humid air under my bed sheets—full of my ragged breaths and evaporated tears. I stubbornly kept a hold on my sheets._

"_Toushiro, com'on! We can get candy…" _

_I couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't want you to see me something other than a strong protector. I didn't want you to see the real me: small and broken. So please understand that and forgive the me back then, who yelled:_

"_**I said **__**go away!**__"_

_The intensity of hatred in my voice was harsh even to me, and I immediately regretted it once the words came out. I wanted to reveal myself and say sorry, but instead, I just hugged the blankets closer—the only support I had._

_You fell silent and then replied softly: "Okay."_

_Even insensitive, girl-clueless, thirteen-year-old me could hear the hurt feelings in your voice. _

_You stopped at the door to say sorry, which I think was rather foolish considering that it was I who was the jerk. But you said something else that caught my attention._

"_Hey Shiro-chan…" You had stopped calling me that for months, "…you, you can tell me if something is wrong…"_

_I shifted under the blankets and turned away from the door—from you—until you left. Then I continued to let my tears trickle to a final stop as your footsteps became softer._

_As I listened quietly to peaceful sounds of your everyday actions, I unknowingly came to terms with the sacrifice that came with keeping secrets from you. I reminded myself that one of us had to take this road, and that it was better that it was me._

_I told myself that I would allow you to take the better path, even if it meant pushing you away from me._

**

* * *

**

A/N: Yet another lengthy chapter. Sorry for the text about their school-life, but I felt it was necessary for the overal composition. Hopefully this chapter wasn't too dull.

**Keep up the reviews! They keep me fueled! **


	9. Poison

**Poison**

A silver haired man in his late twenties replaces the blind man on the witness's stand. The court official called him by the name of "Ichimaru Gin". The young woman at the prosecution desk involuntarily shivers at the name. She can't figure out why her body is doing this when she doesn't feel cold.

"How are you related to Hitsugaya Toushiro?" Soi Fon questions.

"I was their neighbor. Kept watch over 'em while Aizen was at work."

She notices how wide the man's smile is and wonders how it fits on his slim face. She tries to pinpoint his familiarity.

"How often did you do this?"

"Every weekday. Sometimes weekends when Aizen had some extra business."

A snake. Yes—that's it. The two look similar.

"You would know how Hitsugaya-san acted on a regular basis at home, so tell us, what was he like to Hinamori-san and Aizen-san?"

"I never saw him as much with Aizen. But I'd say he was pretty disrespectful to the poor guy."

"And Hinamori-san?"

"With Hinamori-san," He smiled at the young man at the defense stand, "he was obsessive."

The young man stiffens.

"Obsessive how, Ichimaru-san?"

"He wouldn't let me talk to her or touch her in any way." He grins even wider and reveals pale blue eyes behind slitted ones when he adds on:

"It was actually kinda creepy."

* * *

"_Hi-chan, stop squirming or I'll miss!" That's what Orihime said to me during my first lunch at school since a week—the week I spent absent after the night alone with Aizen, waiting for my body to mend; at least, I waited until my body healed to a point that it wouldn't look too prominently battered._

"_Yep. And if she misses, she might stab your eye!" Kuchiki made that—unnecessary—comment while Orihime tried to remove the pieces of glass she found lodged in my right hand with tweezers. She never missed a chance to irritate me._

_Even when I thought that my injuries were well hidden, Orihime always discovered them. I swear, she had a sixth sense for injuries—which sometimes tempted me to distance myself from her in fear of her uncovering my secret. _

"_I've never seen you hurt yourself this bad. Jeez…they were already bad before, but this is the worst!" She muttered._

_One of my clearest memories of my moment was the look Kurosaki gave me—the one that had me convinced that he suspected something. I remember the words that came with it. "Yeah. I didn't know that self-injuries like that were possible." _

_I also remember looking him in the eyes and doing the same thing I did with everyone close to me—the same thing I always did with you: I lied. _

_That time, I think the excuse was: "I tripped over some glass bottles." I don't quite remember; there were too many of them to do so._

_Conversations like this started to come up often at lunch. Orihime would always scold me and try to use her nursing skills to help. Kuchiki would quip sarcastic or irritating comments. Sado would offer quiet concern. Ishida would help me keep my grades up by doing some of the homework I couldn't do while I painstakingly taught myself to write left-handedly. And Kurosaki…Kurosaki would stare at me with the same skeptic expression._

_Seeing his face like that made me nervous—not only because it seemed like he was close to uncovering what I was trying so hard to hide, but also because it meant that he cared. All my friends cared. And at the same time while I was grateful for having such kind friends, I started to develop a fear for allowing them to get so close. _

_The closer they got, the more I cared. And the more I cared, the more weaknesses I had. _

_And the more weaknesses I had, the more chances Aizen had to break me._

_

* * *

_

The June you turned fourteen, you decided that a simple birthday cake and a private 3-member celebration wasn't good enough; instead, you wanted to invite your friends to a "normal" birthday party—like the ones on television with streamers, balloons, and banners that would make me jealous.

_Unfortunately, the June you turned fourteen was also the June that Aizen lost his job. So naturally, he was not in a good mood. _

_Actually, I remember that on the first day of June, when we returned home, Aizen's presence surprised us; he usually never came home until nine or ten. I caught a whiff of booze coming from the living room, which led me to deduce that he was already drunk. I tried to convince you that Aizen didn't want to be disturbed, but you wanted to try asking him for a party. _

_I forced myself to watch by the door frame as you asked, stiff with nervousness of what might happen to you. At first, he simply ignored you and continued on staring at the wall. But I almost gave a sigh of relief when he finally nodded his approval—he was sober enough to feign kindness in front of you. _

_I had sighed too soon._

_I thought hitting you would have been the worst thing Aizen could have done to you the day you asked. But he did something even worse._

_You spent a whole day working on your own party—even though I wasn't experienced with such happy-themed things, I knew something was wrong with that. I helped you occasionally, but you mostly did all the work (I was—and still am-the worst at preparing food and my artistic skills were too shotty for me to help with decorations). But even with all the work, you seemed so happy that it was contagious. If you were that happy the day before the party—I couldn't wait to see your smile the day of the party, even if I was going to feel left out._

_But the morning before the celebration, when Aizen finally got up and made his first appearance out of the living room since days, your efforts were rendered useless. That's because Aizen, who didn't seem to remember the agreement he made with you, tore apart and ruined everything you worked so hard to make perfect._

_I guess he was too drunk that day after all._

_I think I could only understand a fraction of the pain you felt while you watched him furiously dumped everything you baked in the trash. I think I could only identify half of the disappointment that became visible in the form of your tears as you watched your decorations crumble. _

_But I fully felt the feeling of anger as I helplessly watched what you had been dreaming of for days become nothing but paper shreds and popped balloons—I was bounded by both my vows and my fear for Aizen. I was weak, and there was no excuse for it. So I apologize for that now, because I was too caught up in my fury to do so back then._

_When Aizen finally stormed out of the house, finished with his drunken rant about how "ungrateful" we were and how "he should've never bothered to take us in", we were left in the middle of pieces of your shattered dreams—which came down to nothing but trash in the end. Seeing this made you cry even more as I called your friends to cancel the party for you._

_You didn't calm down, even after I spent hours cleaning the mess. I didn't know what to do. I could handle pre-calculus problems easily, I could manage punches in the face, but when it came down to tears running down your cheeks, I was lost. _

_After several tries, I came down to simply holding you. At first, my arms just awkwardly went around you as you shook and hiccupped in disappointment. That awkwardness melted away as I realized how frail you still were; even if you were still a centimeter taller (I was almost catching up to you by then) and seemed healthier, you were still…you. And that relieved me, because then I knew that I could still be there to protect you. _

_I rocked you in my arms until you cried yourself to sleep. When the sniffing ceased and I looked at your tear-stained face, I think I found my way a little closer to you. Although it is a horrible thing to admit: I was glad that what happened between us happened—that moment reassured me that our friendship still existed._

_I carried you to your room (not with ease though; you were getting heavy) and watched you sleep for a while. The sun was setting and with the shafts of pink light sneaking through the blinds, I could see the tiny droplets of tears still caught in your dark eyelashes. Your face seemed so serene, so pure in the light. _

_That was the first time my feelings towards you started to stray a bit from the definite friendship I thought we would have forever. Heat started to crawl up my neck and my body started to stiffen with nerves. _

_At the time, I didn't know what was wrong with me. I was so confused and didn't understand what I was feeling. As I watched you sleep peacefully, I began to fidget. Somehow the memory of seeing Kuchiki and Kurosaki holding hands came into my mind—they did something called "dating" for a while, but it didn't work out between them. _

_As I thought about this, along with all the other things I had seen different students do, I slowly started leaning towards you. My hand found yours, which filled me with gentle warmth. And slowly…just slowly…I came closer. _

_I couldn't bring myself to do it. Although I came close to your lips—so close that I could hear the soft sighs of your breath—I didn't do it. I broke away, and for reasons I couldn't name, I felt frustrated at myself._

_What am I doing? Why am I acting like this? What is this feeling?_

_These were the questions that raged in my mind as I lied on the couch, trying to sort out my confusion. _

_Such and such was my first experience of love._

_

* * *

_

I never carried through with my new feelings toward you. That's because I never got a chance to fully understand them before you and I were separated. It took me two years to indentify the emotions I experienced that day; but by then it was too late: you were gone.

_My thirteen—soon to be fourteen—year old self believed that my new feelings were some sort of poison, slowly wrecking the friendship we had. I hated whatever I was feeling because it was unpredictable, unrecognizable. It would overcome me when I was watching you study, or even when you were talking to me. Because of this, I tried to keep a distance from you—waiting for whatever sickness I had to pass._

_You noticed how weird I was acting and constantly asked me if I was alright; if I could tell you what was wrong. And I couldn't: how could I if I couldn't even explain what was wrong myself?_

_You were just as naïve as I was back then about love and hormones, so you worried about my "sickness" too. But our worries seemed petty in comparison to, and were replaced by, a threat named Ichimaru Gin._

_Ichimaru Gin played a part in our lives called "the baby-sitter" for about five months. That was the time period when Aizen finally got a new job—a busier one that kept him away from home a lot. When Aizen first announced the conditions of his new job, my face lit up. That was until he mentioned the neighbor that would be supervising us._

_My logic at the time went like this: you were fourteen. I was thirteen. We were not babies. We did not need someone to look over us. We were not stupid enough to burn the house down. I hated Ichimaru before I even met him; I hated him for degrading us down to snot-nosed children._

_It didn't take long for me to find a real reason to hate him._

"_He looks like a snake." You whispered when Ichimaru and Aizen talked before Aizen's first day on the job. "I don't like him." You deduced, and hid behind me._

_I agreed with you. With his silver hair (which wasn't a problem on me, but was on him) and his slitted eyes, he looked exactly like a snake—cunning and sneaky in ways I couldn't describe. Not to mention that wide grin as well._

_I noticed that he seemed to be friends with Aizen, which earned him my absolute distrust. And when Aizen left, everything turned awkward. It was like car ride away from the orphanage all over again._

_My reason to hate Gin didn't develop until late night, when we were about to go to sleep. You were taking a shower and I was about to go on the rooftop. I typically used the guest room window to climb outside, but my plans were abandoned when I noticed that asshole standing at the door of the bathroom, listening to you hum your favorite song. _

_His hand was on the knob, slowly twisting the door open._

"_Step away from the door." I glared at him, disgusted. _

"_Oh, I didn't know someone was in there." He grinned even wider, which I didn't think was possible. It was the grin of a liar._

_From then on, I couldn't look at him without remembering that disgusting leer he had on his face at the bathroom door. That moment brought to light the long looks he gave you all the time, the way he touched your shoulder while helping you with homework. How did I not notice it before?_

_I became your protector. I repelled his leers and tried to intimidate him with icy glares whenever he tried talking to you. You didn't seem to mind—your intuition was improving and you seemed to sense something evil lurking around him as well. _

_Ichimaru Gin's actions made me doubt myself as your friend. As I slowly began to grasp my feelings towards you, Ichimaru made me feel ugly. For the longest time, I looked at myself in the mirror and feared the person that the boy in the glass might become. Every blush that crept up my face made me feel dirty—even if it was from a harmless teenaged crush. But then of course, I didn't know any better back then._

_I was an expert when it came to studies. A pro when it came to skiing. I thought I knew everything about you, but when mixed with thoughts about "liking people", you were the biggest mystery of all. _

**

* * *

**

A/N: Hopefully this chapter wasn't as sad, although, I happen to love angst. I also love writing it, since I rely a lot on my plot to move people rather than my words (I find my writing skills pretty weak).

**I apologize for any errors: I wanted to get as much of this story done before school starts! **

**Thanks for all the reviews so far! I love them all! **


	10. Wishes

**Wishes**

"The town would like to bring their final witness to the stand."

At this, the girl pushes her chair out and slowly stands. As if the severity of the situation struck her on the back of the legs, she wobbles slightly as she walks to the front of the room. She can feel all eyes on her as she swears to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help her God—all eyes except for his.

As she sits at the witness's stand, she figures that his bowed head is a gesture of shame. This gives her confidence: she can lose nothing. She is the victim. She has done nothing wrong.

He, on the other hand, has done _everything _wrong.

"Hinamori-san, tell us about Aizen-san." Her lawyer gently asks. "What was he like?"

"I-I…don't remember."

"Nothing?"

She shakes her head.

"So you can't tell us a single thing about your memories before you were fourteen?" Her lawyer points out.

"No…" She speaks softly and then hesitates to add on, "not specific memories, but I can remember feelings…"

"Feelings?"

"Warm feelings. Like happiness. I remember feeling safe and I remember that someone was really important to me."

"Who was that important person, Hinamori-san?"

She looks at her lap. "I can't see his face. I can't remember."

"And why is that?"

Her eyes go to the boy.

"Because he shot the only father I had."

* * *

_Gin never figured out about our all-nighters on the rooftop. In a sad sort of way, I was grateful for Gin's nasty behavior, for it gave us something in common, something to make us feel close again. It was horrible, and thinking about it back then made me feel just as guilty as I do writing it now. But as I watched the bonds we spent so long forming slowly snap and unwind, I was grateful for anything that would prevent our relationship from ending._

_There was one night, out of all the nights Gin was too busy drinking all of the alcohol in the cabinets, that I remember the most—that was the one when we saw our first comet. You preferred to call it a wishing star, despite its scientific inaccurateness. You told me that it was true, that wishing stars—because that they only appeared rarely in a person's life—grants a person's wish made while the star is still glowing in the sky._

"_That's dumb, comets are comets. They're just big, dirty hunks of ice flying in outer space and leaving a trail of whatever is being burned from them by the atmosphere." I replied, simply staring at the streak of blue-tinged white light._

"_It's a wishing star. And it grants wishes. How could it be a huge hunk of rock when it's so pretty?" You stubbornly replied._

_I let it go. If there was one thing that I was completely reassured of back then, it was that your optimistic view—your way of seeing things in the most magical, romantic, and happy way possible—would never leave you. _

"_Fine, make a wish then. Let's see if it happens."_

"_Okay, but you have to make one too, Shiro-kun!" _

_So I followed you and closed my eyes, letting the bright light of the comet in the sky pass by. It lit up the sky as soon as it fell to the horizon, since soon, the light that shone through my eyelids left, leaving me in nothing but darkness._

_I opened my eyes and turned to you: the look you had on your face is one of the clearest pictures of you I still have in my mind. I swear, your eyes were just as bright as the comet, maybe even brighter. _

"_What did you wish for, Shiro-kun?" You asked breathlessly, as if the comet had taken your breath away with it._

_Seeing how eager you were to share yours, I let you go first._

"_For us to be together. Forever." _

_There were rare moments where I could not find anything to say. And this was one of them, for I could do nothing but stare at your smile, which seemed to glow lighter than any star in the sky. _

"_I wished that we can stay happy forever and safe together. I wished that I could watch you grow into a grumpy old man." You giggled at the end, and then asked curiously, "What did you wish for."_

"_Three pounds of candy."_

"_Shiro-kun!..."You whined exasperatedly._

_Actually, you probably never figured this out, but being the stubborn kid who still loved teasing you, I lied about my wish. Or maybe, even I wasn't ready to admit that a part of me was so desperate to escape the life I had—the one I hid from you and everyone else who cared—that I would try relying on a flying rock in the sky._

_You see, I wished for a father. A real one that would love both of us and give us the happiness we had been denied since our births._

_But that was the first and final wish I made and will ever make._

_

* * *

__People like to believe that wishes are something extraordinary—that they transcend the rule of equal payment. But they are not; they are just like anything else: they come with a price._

_So when Gin finally left, we got Aizen back. His openly harsh, aggressive temperament and heavy drinking in the day made it clear that he had lost his job. We both agreed that he was "scarier" than usual. Except I scorned and hated him for it while you tried to understand and pity him. _

_That was one thing I hated: You always looked for the best in people. Even when there wasn't a single shred of benevolence in them at all._

_He never got anything. In fact, he only got worse. The dark shadows in his eyes began to materialize even in front of you. He stopped being kind to me in your presence. Stopped refraining from throwing violent fits in front of you. Stopped being kind to you altogether._

_You cried the first time he yelled at you. You tried to make him breakfast-in-bed, but the moment you tried to wake him up the way you did with me by throwing open the curtains and letting the sunshine in, he got angry. He called you stupid and useless. Threw the food you woke up 2 hours earlier to make to the floor. Made you clean it up. Shouted at you until you left in tears._

_My punishments got worse as well. Standing up for you meant enduring words—words carved into my flesh by glass, razors, or whatever sharp was nearby. By the end of your last year in junior high and my second year in high school, I had scars all over my body. _

_**Liar. Useless. Disobedient. Unloved. Unwanted…**_

_These were only few of the words my skin became a graffiti wall for. And while they were easy to hide from you and everyone else at school, they were not so easy to ignore when I had to shower and walk past the bathroom mirror._

_

* * *

__As things got worse, I could not help but avoid going to "that place" as much as possible—"that place" was supposed to be home, but—even with you there—I could not bring myself to call it "home". _

_I left you there, occasionally…and then eventually often, alone with Aizen. And each time I looked at the house and walked away, I could see you waiting for me to come, watching for the front door to open. Whenever I saw this in my mind, I would hate myself. And yet, I could not overcome the fear I had for __**him**__—no not him, but the words he engraved into my flesh that would eventually seep into my consciousness. _

_Do you remember Jushiro Ukitake? The man who ran that candy store near the place we lived? Well, that was where I was each time I came home late—if I came home at all. _

_We met Ukitake on one of the first days we were adopted. He gave us free candy as a welcome gift and told us to drop by anytime. We did, but our visits slowly became less frequent as we turned eleven, to twelve, and then thirteen. But some particular day brought the urge for me to revisit the candy shop you and I loved to spend time together in two years ago._

_The moment I opened the door, it was like nothing had ever changed. The visitor bell rang just like it did when we first walked in. The smell of caramels, chocolates, fruit chews, and peppermint mixed all into one aroma was still the same. And Ukitake was standing at the cash register with large jars of colorful sweets behind him—just like before._

_Ukitake recognized me when I walked in, he welcomed me. "Oh! Toushiro-kun, welcome! How are you?"_

"_Fine." The word came from my mouth, which was accustomed to lying. I didn't quite understand why I was there and started to look around._

"_It's been a while hasn't it? You've grown so much."_

"_Yeah." _

_Pretty soon, Ukitake lured me into conversation. How was Hinamori? Were we the same height now? What grade was I in again? Did I make any new friends?..._

_That was the start of my frequent visits to the sweet shop, the first place that ever started to feel like "home". _

_At first, I told myself I was only going there for the free candy. But then I would linger there, hesitant to go. Something about the warm air—even if I hated warmth—kept me. Maybe it was the fact that I knew that if I went home, I would only be beaten all over again and watch you cry._

_Ukitake never asked me to leave. He never asked the reason for my visits. He simply began talking, asking me questions about the most trivial things, such as what I learned in school or if I saw the score for the latest baseball game. For that, I was grateful—he gave me a chance to have a normal conversation any father would have with a son._

_There were times when I didn't want to leave at all—times that I was so scared of going back and seeing those words on my body in the mirror. At those times, he would let me stay. He would fix something up and I would devour it—somehow, the food I ate there was the best I had ever ate. And when I fell asleep, I would wake up on the sofa by the wall of the shop with blanket over me. Ukitake would be snoring gently on a stool, right next to me, just in case I woke up screaming from the nightmares that frequently haunted me. For there were days that I truly believed Aizen could see me, and was waiting to watch me fall. _

_On the final day of my sophomore year, I brought you to candy shop to reunite with him and he insisted that we celebrate your graduation. He brought us out to eat—something we hadn't done since the first day we arrived at that town. Except that day, the food tasted better, the night lights looked brighter, and the laughter sounded sweeter. _

_That day could've been the happiest day of my life—right next to the day I met you._

_But when we walked home, joking and laughing, we were about to cross the street. The sign lit white for walk, and so we did. And you know how sometimes, the sign turns red just when you are almost at the other block? Well, that's what happened to us. _

_You and I had raced to the end of the block, trying to beat each other to the end due to a harmless bet. We were laughing, and gasping for breath. And while you were doing this and admitting defeat, I turned around to call out to Ukitake, who was at the lane closest to us._

_I turned in time to see a car speed right by. And with that, everything that made me feel safe and warm for those few months shattered._

_As of now Ukitake can't walk. He can't speak or see either. The shop he owned—my "home"—was shut down. I visited him once and a while, but the hospital had strict visiting hours. So once again, I was, in my mind, an orphan._

_I forgot to cry the day I saw his tall figure crushed. I, to this very day, am not quite sure why. Something about the weight that crashed down on me, didn't give me a chance to squeeze a tear from my eyes. _

_While our surroundings became a scene, while people began to mutter what happened and what poor children we were, while you sobbed on your knees, I could do nothing to stare in shock and let my invisible grief paralyze me._

_It wasn't the amount of blood or his distorted body that stabbed me; it was the man in the car. _

_I saw Aizen behind the windshield of that very car that took the only fatherly figure I ever had from me. _

_There are reasons why I don't make wishes anymore, and that's because it was that day that I discovered the truth about wishes: they are curses. For whenever anything good actually happens to me, someone close to me has to pay the price. _

_Nothing good ever comes out of my happiness._

**

* * *

**

Okay, okay, first of all, I am on my knees right know and begging for forgiveness. I'm so sorry for suddenly freezing on the writing! I was so busy and had NO time whatsoever for this. So please please forgive me!

**I'm looking back on the chapter and wondering if I had lost my touch on my writing skills. Hopefully this is up to par with the rest of the previous chapters. I haven't written any fanfiction in such a long time…**

**Anyway, I promise to be writing like crazy this break, since I am entirely free of homework. For those of you reading this, thanks for staying true to this little fanfiction of mine!**


	11. Shattered

**Shattered**

When the young man's eyes finally dare to meet hers, she immediately regrets looking in his direction. Something about his icy, blue-green eyes had a depth—an aura that she could not understand. But when she tried to break from his glance, she found that she couldn't.

"Hinamori-san."

Her attention suddenly snaps to the defense attorney and remembers that she should be on her guard.

"What did Aizen look like?" The attorney carefully asks.

"I don't remember."

"Can you recall anything about him? Anything he did or said?"

"I already told you, I don't remember." She replies coldly, her voice grows tight.

"Hinamori-san, can you please show the audience your hands?"

She flinches and hesitates, but finally raises her two hands that she had hidden in her lap. She, along with the rest of those in the room, could see the scars left over from deep cuts.

"Do you remember how you got them?"

She looks at the young man, "Him."

She feels a flash of sympathy from him and turns cold as he says:

"Do you have an _exact _memory, Hinamori-san?"

She stutters, "W-well, no. But, it has to be him…" And as if she herself needed reassurance for her assumption, she adds on, "it has to be him…right?"

He ignores her rhetorical question and continues, "Those aren't the only wounds you have, are they?"

She grows silent.

"Answer the question, young lady."

Her voice constricts. "No. I have more on my legs and back."

The attorney walks up to the Judge's stand and looks up to ask, "Your Honor, if I may present something on my client…?"

"As long as it proves your point, Counselor."

Byakuya Kuchiki turns to the young man. "Hitsugaya-san, can you please show the audience your arms?"

He slowly pulls up his sleeves to reveal similar scars in greater amount. Each scar is covered by another—a never-ending reminder of pain. Each scar was similar to the girl's.

The audience notices this too. They receive this information in silent shock as the girl's face pales to a ghost's shade.

"Do your other cuts and scars look like that, Hinamori-san?"

Eyes widening in disbelief, she is at lost for words. She can not bring herself to reply.

The attorney continues regardless, "Who did this to you two, Hinamori-san? Can you remember that?"

Her voice turns hoarse with both confusion and fright.

"No."

* * *

_The days after Ukitake's accident blur together in my mind. Each day back then—I think—was spent in my room. I remember hiding somewhere dark without any desire for company. I remember feeling the heaviness of being lonely, yet wanting to be left alone at the same time._

_I think I worried you. Although you were the one who cried for two days straight after the death of a dormouse we found in the orphanage years ago, you recovered quicker than I did—I think that was what scared you. I think that was what scared me._

_And yet when I thought of this, I still couldn't bring myself to come out of my room and continue with life. I couldn't bring myself to go out and face __**him**__._

_I stopped going to school for—was it?—a month. Maybe even more. I told myself I would start living again tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Over and over again until I simply gave up._

_The day I remembered the clearest, however, was the day I woke up from my depression. _

_But it was you who was impacted the most that day._

_I woke up to your voice—that was a daily aspect during those blurred days. You were telling me that everyone missed me at school…that they were asking about me…that you really wanted me to go tomorrow…_

_Then I specifically remember that you said: _

"_Toushiro-kun…I know you're really sad about Ukitake-san. I really liked him to. But you can always visit him in the hospital. Plus, you have me. You have Aizen-san too—he is our father after all."_

_Those words were proof of my success in keeping you from the corrupt world. But I snapped. For a reason I couldn't and still can't explain, I had a sudden rush of hatred—of jealousy—for you and chose to cast a bit of my pain upon you. I guess, now that I think more about it, I was weak and couldn't carry my own burdens. I guess that is why I coldly told you:_

"_Ukitake was more to me than Aizen ever was. He actually understood me and cared, unlike any of you two. You don't have a clue about what I've gone through. You don't get anything, so leave me alone."_

_I never meant that—I never meant to reveal a piece of the truth about Aizen. But, please forgive me, because trying to keep your image of the world picture perfect was too hard. Trying to keep your life perfect meant that I had to pretend that mine was too—that I was happy, felt cared for, felt safe. By that time, my façade was breaking, cracking like glass._

_I immediately regretted what I said, but couldn't apologize either. I waited for you to sniff, cry, leave—but you did something different that day. _

"_Then tell me what's wrong, Toushiro-kun…I want to help." You whispered._

_Seconds ticked by, maybe even minutes, without me speaking a word. I looked into your tear-welled eyes and made a mistake doing so. I can't describe what they looked like, but I can remember feeling the longing of bringing you down with me. _

_Yet it was those same eyes that told me: no. Those same eyes chained me from telling you the truth. And so I simply said: _

"_You can't."_

_I watched a tear roll down your cheek and felt guilt for being the one who caused it; but then I reminded myself that it was better than telling you the truth. Anything was better than showing you the reality of our lives._

_You eventually left in the evening. I think you were supposed to go to a kind of awards ceremony for mid-year exams. This left me alone in the house with Aizen, who hadn't touched me since the day of the accident. He probably figured that I was in enough pain already—physcial or mental, both suited him fine._

_However, that day, he thought it would be fun to torture me—this time, with words._

"_Toushiro-kun…"He spoke softly in that voice dressed in false kindness, "it's been days since you've gotten out of the house."_

_I ignored him and turned my back towards him. _

"_Ukitake-san…he was a nice man…wasn't he?"_

_I felt my body go rigid, but told myself to block out his voice. He was trying to taunt me and all I had to do was not listen. Yet it was hard, because each word he drawled made me hate him. My desire for revenge increased exponentially for each second I felt his presence. So I did the best thing I could do, I closed my eyes and focused on breathing._

"_It really is too bad that he got into that accident…you know Toushiro-kun, do you mind, telling me how that happened? I never really heard—_

"_You…goddamned…liar." I finally spoke and turned to look at his face, which only brought more disgust._

"_Why, Toushiro-kun, how could you say that?" He gave that smile that I could see right through. I could see the smugness. I could see he knew all along. I could see the truth. _

"_Lies. I know you did it. I saw you. Don't pretend." I said angrily. _

"_Toushiro-kun…" I watched him shake his head slowly, feigning sympathy—as if I was something pitiful, "You must be confused…"_

"_Shut up…shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"_

_And then I lost it. _

_I had never been good at handling my anger before that day. It was after that I actually learned how to completely shut out fury as an outward emotion. Anger is a bit like fire…uncontrollable and unpredictable—it can hurt the people closest to you. But I didn't know that back then, so I started punching the bastard. _

_Yet my weak body, thin from eating so little for years and fragile from all those prior broken bones, couldn't match Aizen's. When I looked up at his bloodied nose—the only damage I had managed—I saw a flash of excitement in his eyes. The next thing I knew, I heard a crack and saw my hand completely twisted in a position I never thought was possible. It was only seconds when I realized the noise in the background was me, screaming in pain. _

_The pain must have made me delirious, because I remember yelling and still trying to fight. And with each attempt, I received another broken bone, angry cut, or—if luckier—a bruise. _

_It was probably the hardest I had ever fought. I remember being drenched in sweat—or maybe mostly blood, since I remember my torn shirt being soaked in red afterwards. Everything hurt so much more than ever. And it wasn't as if my body wasn't accustomed to the injuries; everything bone broken was probably for the second time and everything cut only covered a scar in the same place. Maybe it was that feeling of hopelessness that gave me that feeling of being stabbed in the chest. The feeling that no matter what, life would be like this forever._

_I eventually found myself unable to move anymore, found myself helplessly lying on the ground in agony. But perhaps it was the shame and weakness I felt more than the aching of every bone or joint. Being at Aizen's feet, at his mercy…_

_Next to seeing you hurt, it was the worst feeling in the world._

"_You wouldn't want little Momo-chan ending up like you…right? You won't tell a soul. You wouldn't dare." He yanked my hair—dirty with dried blood—and breathed into my face._

_And we both knew he was right._

_Yet what happened next was unexpected from the both of us. What happened next…I would've and still would give anything to be able to wish it away._

_Because what happened next was you._

_Perhaps the pain screaming in my ears, the shame buzzing in my head, Aizen's triumphant leer deafened me. Perhaps my broken body, my short gasps for air, my blood soaking the floor, deafened him. But whatever it was, neither of us heard the door open. Neither of us heard the footsteps we should've heard. _

_I don't even know how much you saw, how much you heard, how much you understood. _

_All I know is that by the time I heard the sound of shattered glass, it was too late. That very sound led me to look up through swollen, blackened eyes and see what I had been trying to delay for years:_

_You standing at the doorway, with a glass trophy broken into pieces on the ground and your bleeding hands frozen in mid-air—skin sliced with an uncountable amount of cuts from the bits of glass._

_I swear, when I looked into your eyes, I think I saw something shatter inside of you._

**

* * *

**

A/N: I can't tell you guys how pumped I am for finishing this chapter: this marks the halfway mark of the story! The prosecution side is done, so next chapter will start the defense's argument.

**Please forgive me for the late update! Thanks for reading and review!**


	12. Blindness

**Blindness**

The tall, dignified defense attorney stands quietly in the front of the courtroom. His quiet aura, modest yet attention demanding, brings silence upon the chattering audience. Despite his aloof expression, one who looks carefully can see that his violet eyes has a fire of determination in them.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the courtroom. As the prosecution has attempted to prove my client, Hitsugaya-san, as a child with severe problems. And the prosecution may be right."

He pauses.

"Yes. Hitsugaya-san was a very troubled teenager. Yes. He never liked his foster father—a common emotion of any orphan. Yes. He did have anger management problems as a young child learning to cope with his new surroundings. Yet the prosecution, as you all clearly been shown during Hinamori-san's cross-examination, may have missed something that changes the purpose of this trial."

He takes this chance to make eye contact with each curious pair of eyes, and then finishes with:

"Perhaps this young man and this young woman are the victims of this crime. And perhaps the criminal is a man who isn't even in this very room."

* * *

_Things that are broken can never be mended back the same way again—if they are mended at all. You would've known this the best, for you—I can't deny—were never the same after __**that **__day._

_You didn't even cry when you saw us. Or perhaps you did after you walked away and shut the door behind you. If you did, that was the last time you cried in a long time. _

_For some reason, I still feel as I did back then: I feel at fault for all that you saw. After all, I promised myself to protect you from Aizen. I wanted so much to keep you the same: smiling, carefree, blind to the world around us. _

_But I failed. I couldn't keep any my promises to myself or—even worse—you._

_I wonder what you saw that day. I wish I could understand what you saw behind Aizen standing over my incapable body. I wish I could know all the thoughts that ran through your head. _

_If only I could just take that whole moment back. Maybe then you could still be the same. Maybe everything right now would be different._

_I think you were the one who carried me back on my bed and washed me up, because I faintly remember a sort of gentleness on my skin. I could've also been delusional from the pain, but I also remember your voice._

"_How long have you been doing this alone?"_

"_Why did you do this for me?"_

_Through my misty state of mind, I felt your fingers trace the words he had carved in my back. I could've sworn that felt some of them magically lift off and feeling the heaviness in my chest lift._

_Then, thinking about it now, I think I actually may have been freed from a great amount of my burden from then on. _

_I also know now that little piece of relief brought nothing but more suffering._

_

* * *

_

I looked hard for the Hinamori Momo I met eight—or was it even more?—years ago. I searched so intently that I probably fooled myself into thinking—just a bit—that the you I tried so hard to protect was still there. I wanted the old you back so badly that I fooled myself into thinking that there was still hope in magically wiping your memories of

_**that **__day away._

_Now that I think about it, I should've seen how unreachable the innocence was for you. How did I not realize how little you smiled? And if you did, I did I not notice how different—how ghostly feint it was? I accused you of being clueless, yet it was probably me who was the most blind out of the two of us._

_The bags under your eyes…the dullness of your eyes…the constant cold shield you built around you…_

_How could I have ever thought that you could be blissfully blind to our world again? _

_I have heard of people who refuse to see what they hate and only select to see what they want. Maybe I was one of those people. Maybe that's why I missed my crucial chance to save any last shred of happiness and innocence you had left._

_I remember that night—that opportunity clearly — and laugh bitterly at myself as I write. I was so stupid, so weak that I couldn't see what was going on in front of me. _

_You were speaking calmly to Aizen across the hall. The coldness of your voice almost caused me to think that you were a stranger when I woke up—it was that unrecognizable. I was groggy from the time of night, head swimming with questions:_

_What were you two doing up so late?_

_What were you saying?_

_I remember hearing my name. I remember hearing the smugness in Aizen's voice. I remember hearing a sort of deal._

_I don't remember much about that night. I couldn't really hear your voices, I could barely make out your faces in the dark. But I remember doing the worst thing I could've possibly done:_

_I did nothing and went back to sleep._

* * *

**A/N: Happy New Year guys! Did anyone see the ball drop at Times Square? (just curious)**

**This chapter was short because it mainly served as a lead-up chapter for a future one. It'll all make sense soon, I promise :)**

**Thanks for reading. As always, I LOVE feedback! It's what keeps me going!**


	13. Reminiscence

**Reminiscence**

The defense attorney allows his speech to sink into his audience before returning to his seat. He gives the court bailiff a nod, allowing him to call out:

"The defense would like to bring their first witness to stand."

A short, twiggy girl is escorted to the front of the room. Her tiny build and stubby blonde ponytails could fool many into thinking she is no older than twelve, yet the slight frown on her face gives the truth that she is much older. The way she walks—hands stuffed the pockets of her some-what decent jacket—leaves a trail of detached confidence.

She carelessly swears in and drops on the witness seat.

"Please give the audience your name."

"Sarugaki Hiyori." She brusquely replies, as if she could care less how the audience thought of her manners.

"And what is your relation with Hitsugaya Toushiro?"

Her brown eyes slowly go to the young man at the defense table. "He helped me out at the orphanage. Worked there part-time."

"Were you two close?"

An uncharacteristic flicker of emotion passes by her face, "We were some-what friends."

"Did Hitsugaya-san ever share about his private life, his family, during his job with you?"

"Well, I knew he used to be an orphan. She was too." She nods over at the girl at the prosecution table. "They were really close. He really cared about her."

"And how did you that, Sarugaki-san. Did he tell you that?"

She laughs curtly:

"Only an idiot would've needed telling to figure that out."

* * *

_By the end of the summer of my sophomore year—your third year of junior high—I had gotten my wish: someone who could somewhat understand me. I never meant that "someone" to be you._

_The bright side, however, was that Aizen never touched the two of us for nearly a year. It didn't matter though, because the knowledge of what he was capable of doing chained the two of us from disobedience._

_So when Aizen couldn't find himself a job to support his growing addiction for alcohol, turned to us, and said:_

"_I've sacrificed everything to feed you two, be useful and do something for once." The two of us simply complied, although I could've found dozens of ways to disprove his argument._

_It wasn't just Aizen that moved us to find work; it was also the pile of bills and increasing scarcity of food as well. You kept a steady night-job, unlike me, who continuously quit and tried to find new work—something that could pay more for the two of us. But then of course, how much would anybody be willing to pay a fourteen-year-old?_

_The longest I kept a job was four months—I don't think you would remember that even if you still remembered everything. That's because I never told you about my part-time job at the old orphanage—our orphanage._

_It wasn't a planned thing. I never really thought about going back there—never thought I could until this one day when I was getting off my afternoon shift at a gas station. That was when I noticed this sort of old bus—the kind that you could almost miss if you don't give a second glance—with its destination lethargically flickering in the front. _

_It's surprising how a thing one person may find trivial can be extraordinary to another. The world is different because each individual finds that sensation—of awe, of breathlessness, of hope—in different items. Like snow falling from a starry sky. Like you laughing without a worry in the world._

_That word—the town—flashing on that bus hit me that same way: like a rush of air leaving you wanting more. And so, before I realized it, I was on that bus._

_To tell you the truth, I think part of the reason I went was because I wanted to avoid you. I didn't want to admit it—not even to myself—but you were, in a way, the one thing that made me feel safe. In my constantly changing surroundings, you were supposed to be the one thing that would always be the same. _

_But now that comfort was gone. The you I depended on to make sure there was still something good about me was gone. Nothing was the same anymore. _

_The orphanage would be that one stable thing instead. Or so that was what I hoped as I stepped off the bus and walked down the empty streets. _

_I think, during my walk, I was happy in a way. Because while walking, I could see the two of us—images of us years ago—playing and laughing. Yet at the same time, I'm pretty sure I felt a twist of sorrow. Because at the same time, I knew that all those images were the past. And the past could not be replayed._

_Our tree was still there, by the way. You remember? The tree where we first met? When you fell on me? I think I almost froze when I saw it. It looked the same—well, minus the snow since it wasn't winter. I nearly expected you to be sitting there—until voices reminded me that both you and I were no longer orphans, no longer happy._

_Those voices, children's voices, led me to the orphanage. The place that we considered our home, our palace, our haven…now looked small and old. When I first saw it, I asked to myself: what happened to it? It took me months to realize that the orphanage very much the same—it was me who changed._

_All our friends—well, your friends since you were my only friend back then—were gone. Replacing them were new orphans, who—I swear—were tinier than we were back then. I watched them play for a while. Watched a boy swing on the wooden swing with his body tiled up to the sky, a group of kids chase each other while giggling with excitement, a girl hum while jumping with a piece of old rope…everything we once did._

"_What are you doing here?" _

_I turned to find a girl wearing a slight frown and her blonde hair in short pigtails. She could've passed for one of the orphans, she was that short, but the look on her face told me that she was much older. Actually, it was that very look that gave me this strange feeling of familiarity I couldn't explain._

_She repeated her question, which led me to ask: "Where's Granny?"_

_She arched an eyebrow. "She died a couple years ago. She was my grandmother."_

_Another thing changed. _

_Maybe I didn't disguise my twinge of disappointment, or she was very good at detecting it, or both, but she shrugged and said, "Sorry." Which was ironic, because I'm pretty sure Nanny meant more to her than she did to me._

"_So, who runs this place now?" _

"_I do."_

_The silence in between us became stale and awkward. Soon enough, some of the kids noticed a stranger and started tugging at both our shirts. _

"_Hi-chan…who's he?" They whispered loudly, pulling on her large, red jacket and sweat pants. _

"_Hitsugaya…uh, Hitsugaya Toushiro." I offered my name first._

_She stuck her hands into her pockets, "Sarugaki Hiyori." _

* * *

_Sarugaki Hiyori was someone entirely different. _

_She was blunt, rarely smiled, and wore an aura of distrust for everything around her. She seemed to hate everything in the world. Yet the orphans loved her; that was because whenever they tugged on her jacket or ponytails, the invisible shield she put up would wear away a bit and her lip would curve slightly into a smile._

_She gave me a part-time job at the orphanage, said that she "didn't need any help" but gave me the job because I "looked like a desperate idiot". So I became victim of "dress up" and the screaming when two kids would fight over a toy (when that happened Sarugaki would just stand in between them and glare—that would silence everything). _

_I think I enjoyed those few months there because of Sarugaki. Although it took a while, the two of us became friends—in a way. There was always something familiar about her that made me trust her._

_Being at the orphanage also hurt at the same time. Sometimes, when I watched the kids play, I would mistake a little girl with black haired pigtails for you, only to realize that it was just my eyes playing tricks on me once she turned around. There were also times when I would wander in the halls of the old building and see me chasing you for calling me short—ghosts of the past leaving me with only a sense of longing for something that could no longer be. _

_Everything on the interior of the building was the same. The small hole in the wall from my wooden swordfight with another kid…the picture of a butterfly you drew that Granny framed…the etching that I tried to get rid of back then of two stick figures—a boy and girl—with the words underneath: "Toushiro loves Momo!"_

_The only thing different was the addition of new photographs on the billboard of photos Granny used to keep of the orphans that lived in the orphanage. Many of the newer photos had Sarugaki replacing Granny's place. I remember you and I used to stare closely at all the orphans before us and play a "what are they like now?" game. I wonder if the orphans now do the same if they saw the pictures of us. Would they have guessed this?_

"_So, how is she?" Sarugaki asked one day when she caught me gazing at the board, focusing on the faded picture of you standing on my shoulder, trying to reach an apple a branch considered high for the both of us back then._

"_Who?" I snapped out of my involuntary flashbacks._

"_Her." She nodded at the younger you in the pictures._

_I remained silent, wondering how to reply to such a question. Would I tell her the truth? Or would it be best to just lie?_

_She didn't give me a chance to decide and scoffed, "I'm not stupid, you know. That kid in the picture is you."_

_I wonder even now how long she had known. How many pieces of the puzzle of my life had she put together?_

"_You two are still close, aren't you?" She asked carefully._

"_How?-_

_She shrugged, "You've been looking at her pictures since you came here."_

_There was no use in lying to her. So I answered her first question. "She's…fine. Happy, I guess." I lied—and almost tried lying to myself at the same time._

"_And you?" Her brown eyes seemed softer and out of character from her usually tough façade. _

_With the orphanage filled with memories that could've been equivalent to gold in comparison to my current life, I felt something in my throat that I had to gulp back down in order to suppress the emotion._

"_Fine."_

_I think I saw her eyes search mine, and whereas I have fooled most of the people in my life, I don't think I fooled her at all. It felt as if she could see right through my barrier of lies…see the scars on my back, the pain hidden in my eyes, the secrets I kept._

"_Then why are you here?"_

**

* * *

**

A/N: Whew, three chapters in one weekend! I think that's an improvement compared to the last few months, right?

**Maybe you guys can take these fast uploads as a holiday gift, because I probably won't upload for another month (sorry :'( please forgive me!) I'll be occupied with less fun things to do, such as midterms. Bleck.**

**Thanks for all the support! I'm so grateful for all you readers! **


	14. Gray

Gray

At the prosecution desk, the young woman listens to the vignettes the witness has to tell. With each sure word that comes out from the thin, blond stranger lips, a sort of fright seeps into her chest—_he _was becoming human. And slowly, she has to remind herself that the young man at the defense desk ruined her life. He is not her friend.

He was never her friend.

She glances aver at her attorney, who looked unfazed at the stories that are luring the jury. Staring at her lined notepad, filled with illegible scribbles, the prosecutor taps her pen and waits for the girl to finish.

Once the defense attorney turns his back towards the witness, she calls out:

"Sarugaki-san, do you still work at the orphanage?"

"No."

The woman slowly makes her way towards the stand, holding a folder in one hand. "And why is that?"

The girl makes a noise, and abruptly stops, as if some realization or memory causes her to swallow back her words.

"Sarugaki-san," The attorney away from her folder and slowly repeats the question. "Why don't you work at the orphanage anymore?"

"Answer the question, young lady." Judge Yamamoto glances down at the thin teenager, who can find nowhere else to direct her eyes at but the zipper of her oversized, red, jacket.

"Because…" She mutters something.

"Please say it so that the jury can hear, Sarugaki-san." The attorney's eyes seem to have the slightest gleam of victory.

"Because it burned down."

The young man at the defense table looks up at the witness. There is intense feeling in his eyes, hidden deep behind experience of concealing emotions.

"The files here say that the orphanage has had many accidents before. Is that correct?"

"Yeah."

"Was any child ever hurt?"

"Yeah. Once. They're dumb kids. They always get—

"And when was that one-time occurrence?"

"I don't remember—

"Was Hitsugaya-san there?"

"Yes. He was."

"Hmm." She scans the manila folder in her hand. "The police report says here that neighbors saw a fire start inside the building. So, Sarugaki-san, the question is," Her eyes penetrate the witness's:

"Who set it?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_It still confuses me—why I was so drawn to the orphanage. To the me I am right now, being reminded of our halcyon days should have hurt even more. Yet-I guess-to the me I was back then, it made sense that if you wanted to escape the unknown future and couldn't bear the painful present, the only place left to hide in was the past. _

_For a kid the age I was back then, running away would seem like the best solution. After all, you can run away from almost everything. You can run away from home when things were not all right. You can run away from people if they hurt you. _

_But no matter how hard you try and no matter how much it hurts, you can't run from the present. Because time is intangible, it moves with you, runs with you…it is always there._

_I realized that that summer—the night I realized that Sarugaki truly was no different from me. She was running too; only in the opposite direction._

_Thinking about it now, I wonder how I never noticed. With the exception of the one time she asked why I was at orphanage, she never walked into that room with the pictures. Rather, she averted her eyes to the other direction, just like how she would redirect questions about her past—what was she like when she was younger? What was the orphanage like before? What was Granny like? The orphans would never get any answers._

_There would be days when that comically belligerent façade turned cold. When I would leave late in the evening, when all the orphans were either asleep or close to sleeping, there would be someone entirely different on the verge of coming out. _

_I remember wondering who was hiding inside the Sarugaki I knew. I think—and I was a really terrible person for doing so—I wished once or twice that the shadow could come out. Maybe it was because I wanted to know Sarugaki better. But I think that would be giving me too much credit. Because I was selfish—I think I wanted proof that there was someone out there hurting just as much as I was._

_If only I hadn't been so blind. Then I would've seen proof everywhere. You, Sarugaki, everyone that mattered to me…all suffering—perhaps even more than I was—right in front of my ignorant eyes._

_Perhaps I was lucky then, the night the orphanage almost burned down. The night I caught a glance of who Sarugaki was trying to suppress. For those minutes—maybe even an hour—opened my eyes._

_Yet it started so normally. It was getting dark. Some of the kids were reading torn picture books, others quietly playing with worn toys. And then, one of the kids asked for something. Maybe it was ice cream or milk or whatever children used to like—the stuff Aizen never let us indulge in. But whatever it was, it started as a suggestion and got all the other kids excited. We didn't have it, and one of us—Sarugaki or I—had to go out and get it. I was too busy reading a book to a group of them—it was one of the things only I could do out of the two of us, since for some reason Sarugaki never seemed to even want to touch the books. _

_But anyway, I was too busy and Sarugaki was the only person who could go out. She didn't want to. I could tell. She asked me twice—maybe even three times—to please go. I think, that was what she said: "please"—something that she rarely ever said. That must have been the first time I had ever heard her say such a word. And thinking about it now, there must have been a tone of desperation in that one word._

_Only—not only was I blind—I was too deaf to hear. _

_The kids pulled me down and begged me to stay. I complied, and maybe even teased Sarugaki about being afraid of the dark. _

_Now that I think about it—the moment I did that, I must have destroyed the very goal she had been working so hard to build. I became the very person that I hated. I became __**him**__. _

_Because I was the reason why Sarugaki had to walk to town. I was the reason she came back to the orphanage, panting as if she had sprinted home from something frightening, trembling as if she had faced a monster. _

_It was only then when I got the slightest hint that something wasn't right. She slammed the door and shuddered, her breath staggering. If it hadn't been for those shadows in her eyes and the fact that she hadn't brought anything home, I would've thought she had just ran home for the heck of it. _

_But when I asked her, she said she was okay. It took her a while to realize that she wasn't alone, but once she did, she gave an annoyed smile—which I only now, as I write, remember as a shaky smile—and told me to buzz off. She said that she couldn't find any store open, and all the children complained. So I took off and left her to watch over the kids._

_The very first convenience store I walked by was open, bright lights and all. The ice cream—I remember now—was there and I took it to the cash register. There were two other women ahead of me, talking in hushed voices. The kind of voices people used when gossiping._

"_Did you see her?"_

"_Yes, yes! The orphan girl!"_

"_I haven't seen her face in years!"_

"_So she's out of the correctional house for juveniles?"_

"_She made it out there a long time ago. I heard that she went back to the orphanage!" _

"_I can't believe she allowed such a girl even __**near**__ children!"_

"_Well, I heard that the elderly lady who ran the place was her grandmother."_

"_I've never actually seen the orphanage. Where is it?"_

"_Oh, nobody ever does. It's some run down place at the edge of town. The orphans there rarely get adopted."_

"_Really? What happens to them, when they turn into adults?"_

"_Oh, who knows? They probably just go get a job and get on with their lives. Although, I hear most of them find their way into jailhouses or asylums!"_

"_No surprise there. Most of them aren't brought up properly anyway."_

"_Especially with a girl like __**her**__ taking care of them."_

"_Do you think she heard us, talking about her?"_

_"Oh, she should be used to it by now. Do you know how her grandmother died? She—_

_That was when I left. I didn't think I could take anymore. And I think I was lucky to have not waited in line, because when I went back, I found someone else other than Sarugaki. I found the shadow I had been wondering about._

_It was my fault._

_The children were screaming, the kitchen was burning. I don't remember every second of my actions. But if I close my eyes, I still can hear the cries of help and how cold my skin felt, regardless of the flames around me. I think, I think I got the children out of there first. But then, when I told them all to stay outside and counted them off, I realized someone was missing. _

_Sarugaki was missing._

_I found her in the kitchen—the shell of her, at least. Because whoever was in that slight, small body of hers wasn't her. She—whoever she was—looked at me, and I think I shivered at the sight of those eyes. And she stood there, in the middle of the inferno, with the box of matches in her hand._

_I screamed her name. Or someone did. Because the voice that came from my mouth sounded weird—tinged with fright maybe. I must've called it out twenty times, and I remember running over there and shaking her lifeless body as well. I did all this while pouring water over the flames. _

_I don't know how I did it, but the fire never got to the rest of the place, just a corner of room—but it seemed so much more dangerous at the time. When I turned back, drenched with sweat, I saw light slowly making its way back into her eyes. _

_And I think it was then that she realized what she had done. _

"_It's sad isn't it? I can't change, no matter what I do. I can't change."_

_Singed by the fire, her blond hair frizzled, her face tired—I realized how familiar she was. Remember that one picture on the left side of the board? You weren't at the orphanage just yet at the time when it was taken, but it was one of your favorites because you thought my face looked funny (my eyes were squinted). And if you could still remember that girl at the very corner, who had the same frown I usually wore in all the other pictures…that was her. That was Sarugaki._

_Just a year before you came, there was an accident in which one of the bedrooms was burned down. And a few weeks later, that little girl in the blond pigtails disappeared. Nobody really said anything—if they noticed at all. She never really talked to anyone. She was just…there. And it was only then, when I saw Sarugaki standing there in the middle of the blackened floor, that I realized who she was._

"_The past never leaves me alone. I can still see my grandmother's face the night she died, the night I burned the orphanage for the second time. She looked up at the sky, clouded with a bit of smoke left over. "I wonder why I even stay here. Everything reeks of the past. The damn pictures are the same and as crappy as ever. The kids have shitty lives while we pretend that they don't. And they grow up and find out that the world has no place for kids like them. Over and over and over again. It doesn't even matter who the kids are and if their faces are different. Nobody cares for people like us." _

_She looked over to me, "I learned that the moment my mother abandoned me. Tons of the other kids' parents did the same. But they still smiled and played. I never got it. How could they be so happy? What was the point in all of this if they're going to end up alone and empty, just like the rest of the orphans before them?"_

"_There are exceptions." I sat next to her. I could here the sirens of the fire trucks approaching. I wonder now as I'm writing this, if I was trying to convince her or myself._

"_I try to tell myself that. But I can't change. Every time I remember what I've done, I just do it again. I can't get away from my past." She laughed bitterly—or maybe it was a cry of resignation, "It's pathetic, but I'm so horrible that I can't even shed a damn tear. I can't even cry._

"_Well, I guess I'll have to go back to that hell hole again."_

_I could see a bit of the Sarugaki I met return, the girl who pretended she was invincible. But I think I saw through her that time._

"_Just tell me one thing, before they come." The lights from the police cars glow red and blue on her pale, thin face as she drew closer to me. "You and that girl are the only ones I remember who actually got adopted. Are your lives any better?" _

_You have to remember that I wasn't thinking right that time. I couldn't bring myself to tell the truth, and lying would be impossible. What else could I have done? _

_I hesitantly brought myself closer to her. And I kissed her._

_And I am still just as confused about why I did that as I was then. But I was in my right mind, as footsteps began to approach us, to stare at her firmly in the eyes and tell her:_

"_It was my fault. I accidentally left the stove on."_

_That was my last day at the orphanage. And the last time I ever saw her again._

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Do I have to repeat it again, Sarugaki-san? Who set the fire?"

The witness stares at the young man with determined eyes. By the look on her face, he realizes what she is about to do. But he is too late to stop her.

"You're expecting to say he did it, aren't you? Aren't you?" She laughs harshly. "'Cause that's what it says in your damned police reports. Well, you want to know who really did it? You want to know the real criminal?"

She grins determinedly. "It was me. I burned the orphanage."

The jury mutters and the prosecutor rapidly speaks to the judge.

"Your Honor, this is clearly a deceitful attempt to throw the prosecution off. The police reports clearly—

"Screw the goddamned reports! He lied! Can't you see that? He lied for me! That's just who he is!" She slams her hands on the wood and stands up, glaring furiously at the audience.

"You guys think everything's either right or wrong, black or white. Well, nothing's like that. Life's gray, it's all fucked up.

"And out of all of us, his is fucked up the most."

* * *

**Okay, I apologize for-what was it?—a 6 month delay? Life just gets so busy! And next year will be even worse with loads of APs ****. But I will try to finish this off this summer! **

**Thank you to anyone who read this chapter and still has the patience to have faith in me! I promise I won't let you down! Or…I'll try my best not to!**


	15. Reality

Reality

"Well, Counselor, are you planning to send in your next witness?" The judge peers over his desk and down at the defendant's attorney as the teenaged girl who has previously created a slight excitement in the room is led out the large doors. If he is the slightest bit irritated at the witness's surprising refutation of the evidence planned by the prosecution, he does not show it.

The lawyer sitting by the defendant is the midst of observing the muttering jury with the slightest smirk on his lips. He hears the judge and gives a nod. He catches the prosecutor glaring at him and regains his composure, but the spark of triumph is apparent in his eyes.

"The defense would like to call Kurosaki Ichigo to the stand."

The bailiffs escort a young man with prominent orange hair to the witness's stand. From his attire, he appears to be a college student. He tries to catch the defendant's eyes, but the young man's ice-blue eyes avert to the ground.

"Kurosaki-san," The defense attorney starts after the young man has sworn in and stated his name, "how well did you know Hitsugaya-san?"

"Pretty well. We were friends."

"And did you guys have other friends you liked to hang out with?"

"Sure. There was Ishida, Rukia, Inoue, and Chad." He lists them easily.

"What about Hinamori-san? Did she join you guys when she entered high school a year later?"

He hesitates and side-glances at the girl cautiously. "No."

The attorney raises an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Hinamori was, uh, quiet. She didn't like to talk a lot and she always was too busy with work…and stuff…" He carefully watches the girl's muscles grow stiff. "There…there was a lot of stuff going on about her. Well, I mean, people talked about her…"

The defendant's eyes flicker up towards the witness. There is an anxious look in his eyes, growing, waiting for something to occur.

"What did other students say about her?" The attorney presses.

"Well, I get now why she did it, but she had this reputation—

The crack of a pencil and the clamor of wood resonate, ripping through the quiet, stifled atmosphere and stopping the witness short. The audience turns their attention towards the young man with ice-cold eyes, which seem to glow a sort of harsh, protective bright blue as he stands with his hands clenched against the surface of the table. His body, along with his voice, trembles as the people in the room witness him speak for the first time in hours.

"Stop. None of that information is necessary. I…I won't let you say any of that."

* * *

_You have to understand that I was really confused back then. I'm still confused about what I did with Sarugaki back then—why I kissed her. All I know is that I only realized the magnitude of what I had done after I returned home late at night, after being questioned at the police station.. Well—in realty, from an outsider's point of view, I guess it wasn't a big deal. But when I walked through that door I dreaded so much, it hit me: the guilt. _

_I felt like I had betrayed you somehow. And I hated myself for it. Something about that night—whether it was the fire or the talk I had with Sarugaki—made me truly realize the meaning of what I had done for the past few months; I had left you alone. Me—the one who swore to keep you the way you were until I died. Me—the one you trusted to keep you safe. But instead of keeping my self-made promises, I ran off—scared—from our present and future. I ran off in attempt to hide in the past. And in doing so, I failed to protect you._

_When I climbed under my covers that night with the crashing of beer bottles against the ground (done by Aizen in his drunken state), I noticed how much of a stranger I felt. For those all those days I spent at the orphanage, it became my home—the kids and Sarugaki. My image of home had become an image without you. _

_And that was unacceptable._

_How could I have thought such a thing? How selfish could I get? _

_I remember those questions I asked myself, pounding against my head like a hammer. The guilt was so distracting, that I even failed to notice that you weren't home yet—even though it was 2 AM._

* * *

_It's surprising how time continues to move despite certain phenomena. I think there's an innate human belief that tomorrow can't possibly come if today was remarkable. And somehow, it does. And slowly, slowly life becomes normal again—whether you like it or not._

_That's what happened to me—or so I thought._

_When school began again, I almost became excited. For the first time, I could see you in school. We could actually have more in common again. And, although it was a long stretch, we could possibly turn back time and undo the separation I had felt growing between us._

_But that never happened. Because by then—without me noticing over the time I was occupied with the orphanage—you became someone entirely different. The Momo I knew was gone._

_At first, I never noticed it. Perhaps I was truly blind to the truths around me, or my denial subconsciously shielded me from them. Whenever I'd ask if you wanted to sit for lunch, you'd apologize: you had other friends to sit with. Whenever I'd wait for you at the lockers to walk home together, you would laugh softly and say that you promised the art or literature club that you'd be at the meeting. Whenever I noticed you came home late with this tired look on your face, you would shake it off and manage to pull a smile: studying with your friends took longer than you had planned._

_I acted like it was no big deal—it was a "guy thing" to do back then after all. But honestly, one side of me felt almost lonely, in a sense, whenever you turned me down. Yet whenever I saw your back turned to me as you walked down the hallway, I never blamed you at all. I think, on a deeper level, I was happy for you. In a sense, I lived vicariously through you—what I believed to be your feelings and experiences. _

_So naturally, the day when Kurosaki told me those things about you, I couldn't—didn't—want to believe it at all. _

* * *

_The day I opened my eyes was a Tuesday during the month of December. The first snow had just passed a few days ago and the snow was gray and mushy on the ground. It was an afternoon and the town had a sort of festive air about it: that's because it was only a week before Christmas. I remember that because the gang—Kurosaki, Ishida, Chad, Kuchiki, Inoue—and I were shopping for gifts for family members._

_Well, I was shopping for you._

_At first, since I never told the guys about you, Kuchiki and Inoue got really excited when I asked what girls liked. They bugged me about it the whole way to the shops. _

"_Hi-kun's got a girlfriend!" Inoue jumped and skipped along side me, while antagonizing, "He's younger than us, and we're all still single!"_

"_I bet he's paying her to date him. Who's the poor girl, Hitsugaya?" Kuchiki jabbed me._

_I looked towards the guys for the possibility of them saving me from this harassment, but even Kurosaki looked the slightest bit interested. _

"_She's NOT a girlfriend!" I finally said loudly, and they stop to listen. But suddenly, during this silence, I get this thought. And it's still embarrassing—the thought—for me to share, but what if…what if you were my girlfriend? Who were you to me anyway?_

_That was when my face suddenly felt really hot. But I realized quickly that if I didn't say anything, Inoue would squeal._

"_She's just a friend." _

"_Sure. Sure. Well, who is this 'friend'?" Kuchiki made imaginary quotation marks in the air. _

_I hesitate and look away at my friends. "Hinamori. Momo."_

_I close my eyes and wait for the girlish shouts. But none of it comes and turn my head back to them. Instead of teasing smiles and giggles, I see concern. And at that moment, I was honestly nothing but confused._

"_What?"_

"_Are you sure you mean that freshman girl?" Ishida looked at me carefully._

"_Yeah, what about her?"_

"_Hitsugaya-kun…" Orihime said slowly and carefully, as if trying to appease something that threatening._

"_What?" I asked sharply. Because if it involved you, then it was my business to worry._

_She flinched and quickly shied behind Kuchiki, who glared at me. It probably was—as I look back now—only a few seconds as they all looked at me with this sort of concerned and almost sympathetic expression. But it felt like hours, because for some reason, I could tell that they were going to hurt you somehow. And because of that, it felt like—for that long moment—it was just us versus the world once more._

_Finally, Kuchiki spoke up. "Everyone else has been talking about her. They say she's a slut. They've seen her working as a waitress in a strip bar."_

"_Rukia…" Chad said in a quiet and almost disapproving tone._

"_What?" She snapped back, "I'm not going to coddle him. That's what everyone's been saying."_

_They all grew silent and observed me, trying to see how I would react. _

_It was a joke. That was honestly what I thought. It was a joke to get me angry, and then we would get over it. Everybody would like you and life could go on again. So I laughed._

"_Why are you guys looking at me like that? You don't seriously believe it, right?"_

"_Histugaya…" Ishida started, but I don't let him, because I didn't want to hear you in any negative sentence again._

"_You guys, you don't even know her." My laughter slows. I wasn't even sure why I was laughing. Because I don't think I actually thought the claim was even funny at the time. In fact—it scared me._

"_Do you?" Ishida replied._

_I couldn't stand it. How could this be? They were my friends, and now they were backstabbing me. It wasn't that they didn't trust my defensive claims, it was that they thought the worst of you. And I couldn't take that. They could insult me all they wanted and that wouldn't matter. But you? That was unforgivable. _

_So I sprinted from them. I must've ran three blocks at least, because I remember ignoring several car horns blaring at me for my carelessness. By the time I ran out of breath and stopped, my chest heaving, I realized that I didn't answer Ishida's question._

_Did I know you?_

_Before I could even compose myself, before I could even reassure myself, I heard my name. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught the distinctive orange color of Kurosaki's hair. I remember being scared to hear what he had to say. It was as if everyone—even my friends—wanted to shatter the dream I was hanging on to. And if that dream was gone—if the Momo I knew was gone—what else was there to live for?_

_I tried to start running again, but before I could escape, I felt a firm grip on my shoulder spin me around. This was only to find myself looking into Kurosaki's brown eyes. _

"_Let me go." I muttered, struggling in his grasp._

_But his hands were heavy on my shoulders, and I couldn't move. It was almost as if he had me trapped, with nowhere to look but his face._

"_Look Toushiro, just listen. We weren't trying to insult your friend. We were just warning you about what other guys have been saying. We don't want you to get hurt." He made sure to look me in the eyes. _

"_She's not—_

"_She may not be what everyone says she is. And if that's true, then the people who started the rumors are bastards. But if she is," he gripped me tighter, "if she is what everyone's been saying, then we're not blaming her for anything. Because…" he searched my eyes, as if trying to understand or uncover something about me—even if we were talking about you._

"…_something horrible must have happened to her for her to resort to such a thing. And that's not her fault. It's not your fault either."_

_Maybe he actually did tell—from looking into my eyes that time—how scared I was. After all, I had always thought that you would be you. That time could never have an effect on you. That I could shield you from anything. And now people were doubting you. Even the fact that there were such rumors about you, that was like a change in my eyes too. Because the Momo I knew was loved by everyone._

_The thoughts whirled about my head like a storm and I couldn't stand it. I was confused, hurt, and probably several other things I can't describe. _

_So what could I do but do what I did best?_

_What could I do but run?_

* * *

_In the end—I'm sorry—but in the end I listened to them. I didn't want to, but I did. My ears started catching things I never heard before. My eyes started seeing things. And I hated myself for it because it was like betraying you. It was like I didn't trust you. I was horrible._

_And even up to today, I wonder if seeing past your lies was even the best thing to do. Would everything have turned out the same way? Would it have been better to live securely under that false supposition or discover the truth like I did back then?_

"_I saw her yesterday at that bar again."_

"_Did you see what she was wearing?"_

"_Doesn't she have any shame?"_

_And it wasn't like for each of those whispers, I felt anger on your behalf. Well, I did, but it wasn't really much at them so much as it was at me. After all, if I trusted you, none of their words would affect me. But the thing was that they did, and I knew that. So then, I would be the one at fault—I was the friend who couldn't trust you, the kindest of people._

_Yet even with this reasoning in my conscience, I found myself observing you. I found myself actually seeing you since months. I saw that you sat by yourself by the fence, at the very corner of the school grounds as if some force had pushed you near the edge and made you an outsider. I saw that you weren't in any clubs at all; instead, you sketched on your own in a notebook as if it was the only thing in the world you could trust. I saw that you never had friends to hang out with after school—your late nights were spent by working._

_That was you. _

_How did I not see the changes?_

_You were thinner, as if something ate away at you. There were wary shadows beneath your eyes. Your lips looked stiff, as if they had never smiled in months. And your eyes…what happened to those honey brown eyes? They were dark, so dark that they could've been black, and so black that I couldn't see a thing in them. It was as if they hid some awful secret._

_It was like the you I knew, the friend, the foster-sister I counted on for a smile or something warm was gone. She had been squeezed out and some stranger had intruded the body. I think about it like this now, but back then I was truly confused. It was like the girl with your face and body was you but wasn't you. And I couldn't see you in the same way. _

_If you still remember all this, or are starting to remember now, I wonder if you hate me. Do you hate me for thinking such things? Because I think I'll apologize now then, for I did something even worse: I followed you to your job. _

_Please understand, I wanted to believe you, I really did. I think I was even in denial as I followed you. I told myself that I knew they were all liars and following you was just to prove them wrong. I told myself that, I really did. I wanted to think, as I walked a few paces behind you, that you were going to turn into some sort of café and put on a waitress apron (because you once said that you loved the decorations on the small cakes on display) or maybe head towards a daycare center (because you always seemed so good with kids). _

_But you never did. _

_Instead, you took a sharp detour down an alley and by the time I got there, you were gone. I tried peering through the grime and shadows, but there was no sign of you._

_I don't know how long I spent wandering in town. I don't even know why I didn't give up. I think I wanted to stop and tell myself that you went to work at some nice place where you smiled and made other people happy with that old aura of yours, but something inside me nagged me to keep walking—to keep looking for you._

_And I did._

_But I almost missed you. I almost passed by without seeing you through the window. _

_The window of the strip of, that was._

_It was located in the just at the very opening of a shadowy alley, its lights glaring OPEN. The inside was a bit dim too, but even I could see—with my blind eyes—that it was filled with men. _

_And there you were. _

_Or rather, there was the stranger in your body. She was dressed in a tight black, strapless top, and a mini skirt that barely covered her legs. Her face was covered in rogue makeup that made her look at least ten years older her age. I could see the men, gulping down their alcohol, leering at her—at your body. _

_But the thing I remember most about that girl was her smile. That smile that could've been passed for any flirtatious glance, but I could see it was something different. I saw a mask that could barely hide the fatigue and desperation. _

_I can't really describe the way I felt. Was it anger? Was it disappointment? Was it shame? Was it a mixture of all the three? _

_I think I was close to tears then. I think I cried without tears, actually. Seeing you like that…_

_When I met you back home again, you were back in your uniform clothes, all your makeup off. It was almost as if nothing happened, and that was when I realized that it wasn't just me. It wasn't just my lack of astuteness, my ignorance; it was your disguise. _

_I looked at the messenger bag, where I once thought your books were. I think you even saw me observing it and shifted it behind your back a little. Shifted it from my sight, just like the rest of your pain._

_I didn't even know what to say. What could I say to the stranger in my dear friend's shell? How could I get you back?_

"_Are you okay?"_

_And, to be truthful, I think that was when you broke me for the first time. That was when you replied with a smile that I would've believed a day before:_

"_Of course."_

_When did you grow up?_

_When did reality break you too?_

* * *

**A/N: I had this plot line planned since last year but never got to built up to it in time, so I'm really excited (well, sad at the same time) to upload this! I hope you guys find it moving in some way…. Once again, thanks for those who are reading this lil' old fic of mine! Your support is immensely appreciated and your reviews are loved!**

**By the way, I'm sorry for the inconsistancy of the transitions of the sections. The xxx's occassionaly refuse to show up in the Doc Manager (like today) so I have to resort to the line thingies...**


	16. Reversal

Reversal

"Excuse me, Your Honor, but the defense asks for a short break." The defense attorney speaks tersely above the surprised mumbles of the jury.

Judge Yamamoto gives him a tacit permission with a nod of his head. Accordingly, the defense attorney glares at his client. His eyes seem to physically drag the teenager outside of the court room, for the young man follows him quietly to the door.

From his brisk stride, the defendant can tell that his lawyer is not happy. He finds himself in a discreet hallway in the building, where all the voices of the jurors on break were all just a faint murmur. Looking around him, he loses himself the regal air of the environment.

"That, was pretty goddamn crucial to our case, did you know that?"

The boy turns to the direction of his attorney's voice. He can only see the back of his navy blue suit, for his back is turned to him. In a way, he is glad that he cannot see his attorney's face.

He knows that Kuchiki Byakuya knows what is best for him. But no matter what, he would not back down. He would not let Kurosaki Ichigo speak because he knows what he will reveal. So the boy can find no response except:

"She…She can't know."

There is a loud bang of a fist against wood and suddenly the boy finds himself with his back pressed to the wall. His attorney's dark violet eyes stare directly into his as he grabs the boy by the lapels.

"She isn't your business anymore."

The boy finds his lawyer's eyes intense with a sort of startling emotion that he cannot put into words. Finding it uncomfortable to meet him eye to eye, he stares at the ground.

"I have to."

He feels the hands on his collar shake.

"For once…just for once, can't you think about yourself? This isn't just your battle anymore. There are people who need you to win. Do you even want to live anymore?"

The boy doesn't answer.

* * *

_That's right. It was around that time that __**those**__ dreams started. Don't get me wrong, I don't remember most of the dreams I have. It's just that that dream stood out to me the most because it's happened so many times. Sometimes I have it still. And the results are still the same: a sweat-drenched me, waking up with my chest rising up and down rapidly along with my knuckles white from gripping the bed sheets._

_The frequency of the dream is to the point where I even know it's a dream when I'm in it. It's just that…the feelings—the fear, the desperation always sets in and breaks through me, causing me to lose myself._

_It starts off with nothingness. And for the longest time, I can't sense anything, hear anything, see anything. I am isolated, deaf, blind. _

_But then, I slowly sense you. That radiating aura of warmth and contagious levity. I don't know where you are, but I know you are there. _

_I start hearing your laugh. At first it's faint, but definitely there. _

_Then the water starts. _

_I feel it soaking my bare feet. It's different from water. It's cold and gluey. At the touch of my skin, it makes me feel empty. _

_As I struggle in this, your laughter slowly transitions into screams for help. And I try to save you, but all I can't find you because I still can't see. I yell out your name, and it seems futile. The water is hard to run through and there is nothing but black._

"_Save me! Shiro-chan! Save me!"_

_But I can't. I can't. _

_I am useless._

_But then, slowly, my sight comes. And what I find is horrifying._

_The two of us are drowning in the dark water. Or perhaps the water can be better described as shadows, because they move like arms trying to smolder us—engulf us into complete nothing. _

_Liquidy black arms are trying to push you into the depths of the shadows. You are squirming to escape, but the darkness is too overbearing. They cover your arms, your legs, and try to grasp at your face. You can barely cry out._

_I try to move toward you, but my situation is no different. The shadows hold me back, but I slash away at them. It seems hours before I reach you and I am exhausted. _

_But by then, the black has already enshrouded you completely. You are nothing by a being in complete darkness. _

_I am fatigued, but I rip away at the shadows, trying to find you underneath. It's no use, they come back at latch on again. But I don't care, I just keep ripping and slashing, crying your name._

_And I am doomed to do this forever, only to find more darkness behind darkness._

* * *

_I stopped talking to my friends. It wasn't as much as I was bitter about being wrong than as I couldn't bear to leave you alone. _

_I wanted to hear to truth from you. I thought that if you could just break through the stone wall you built and give me an honest answer, a part of the old you come back again. And so could our friendship._

_But you just kept lying._

_You were babysitting at night. You had a sleepover. You were helping a friend with her recent break up. _

_I knew all of them were lies. But how could I tell you that? _

_My first attempt to approach you about it was at the top of the school building. Since I had no where else to go during lunch, I went up there—that was usually where other solitary people liked to enjoy their peace._

_It was different that day though, because no one was there. Just the gray sky and a slight breeze, threatening a storm._

_Then I realized you were there. I almost didn't notice you, standing at the edge where the fence was broken. Daredevils liked to stand there and look downwards, for there was nothing there to protect a person from dropping four stories to the ground._

_But you, you were simply standing there, as if contemplating something. _

_It took me two times to get your attention by calling your name. You turned around and had this blank look on your face, as if you hadn't heard your very own name in a long time._

_But an expression of recognition crept to your face as you said in a distant, tired, hallow voice:_

"_Oh, hi Toushiro-kun."_

_It was almost ephemeral in a way, the way you talked. Your aura too, it was wispy. Like your surroundings had more presence than you and could swallow you whole. _

_I gulped. It was like talking to a stranger almost. Yet at the same time, you weren't. But even so, something about you now was eerily familiar. It made me nervous, almost uneasy, talking to you._

"_What…what are you doing there?" I tried to ask casually._

"_Just looking at the sky…there's not a bit of sunlight here." Again, your voice seemed empty. _

_Unsure about how to reply, I just looked at you. At that time, I realized how little we had actually talked to each other for the past months. When was the last time we had watched the stars on the roof? _

_But that was another girl back then. Because you had lost the child in your face. Your cheeks were hallowed out, you grew taller, you looked more like a woman than a girl. _

_But your eyes were the most distinct. No matter how tired your physique or voice seemed, your eyes were something different. They were dark and stony, yet I could see some sort of fire in them. Some sort of determination churned with other indescribable mixed feelings._

_That was when I realized what was so familiar about you. _

_Those eyes were the same as mine._

_But before I could say anything more, you turned around and said:_

"_Oh look, there's a bit of light."_

_I glanced up at the direction you were pointing. You were right, in the stormy clouds, the tiniest—most minute—ray of sunlight fought its way through, covering only a tiny part of the ground with gold._

_What you did next is one of the clearest memories of you. I'm not sure why I found it so significant, but it just was. _

"_Oh, I'm blocking it. Here, I'll move." And with that, you side stepped from the shaft of sun and back into the rest of the shadows. With that, the tiny piece of sun shined on me instead. Warm, light, gold._

_I looked at you, and saw you watching me in the single ray of light among cloud shadows. The expression you had on your face—despite being underneath the dreary air of the clouds—gave a feeling that reminded me of how I used to watch you as you played and laughed. _

_You smiled. For that second, it was almost like you were genuinely happy._

* * *

_The next few weeks after that, I came down with some sort of sickness. Or maybe I just couldn't bring myself to go to school anymore—see you alone in the hallways and then disappear into the crowd after school with that bag filled with those clothes. Either way, I didn't attend classes._

_Instead, I wandered around town in the day. I don't really remember what I did during those times. My mind was probably blank. It felt better that way, when I didn't have to feel at all._

_When I went home, Aizen was never there. He never came back unless it was at least 4 am in the morning, if he came back at all. Whenever he did, the air inside would reek of alcohol and there would be beer cans, glass bottles all over the carpet. _

_Surprisingly enough, he would seem pretty sober. When I would walk past the room, he would sit calmly. His eyes would follow me (I never really saw this for certain, but I could feel it). But there was no forcing me to take blows from glass bottles, no burning my hands on a stove, no carving words into my skin like before. Nothing. Instead, he would just stare at me. _

_Yet even if he didn't physically touch me, I could still sense that faint triumph from him. And every once and a while, before I could get all the way to my room, I would hear him say in that dark tone of his:_

"_You're lucky I made that deal."_

_I never knew what he meant, until the day of that phone call._

_That when the school called home to say that I hadn't been going to my classes in a long time. If they had stopped at that, I'm pretty sure what happened next wouldn't have taken place. But instead, they also mentioned that another student showed concerned about the "environment" I was living in._

_When I came home, I heard that message playing over and over again on the phone. I remember closing my eyes and praying that Aizen wasn't home yet. _

_But I've never been known to have any wishes answered._

"_Toushiro-kun." _

_I stopped cold. I could hear the menace creeping in his tone, no matter how much he tried to hide in aloofness. _

_He walked to me slowly. "Look at me." He said, for I stared at the ground._

_I didn't want to comply. It was weird, a year ago, I might've listened—anything to avoid being hit. I remembered that I would be punished for not obeying. But it was like I forgot the magnitude of the punishments._

_He grabbed me by the face and roughly jerked my neck, forcing me to look into his eyes. _

"_That's better." He smiled that shadowy smile that I hated so much._

_I stared him down. I thought that since I was a year older, things were different. I was stronger, grown up._

_Nothing was different._

"_Aizen-san…this…probably isn't anything to worry about, but there's a student who's been showing concern about Hitsugaya-kun's… home environment…"_

_The phone repeated again in the school secretary's voice. _

"_Did you tell your little friends that?" He gripped my jaws tighter. "You filled their heads with lies to get attention, didn't you? Because you are nothing, no one worth looking at." _

_I thought my jaw bones were going to break, but then, we both heard the door open and shut. It was almost like déjà vu, the footsteps getting louder as someone approached us._

_But this time, was different. This time, there was a voice, hard with fury._

"_Let him go."_

_That voice was yours._

_Looking at the side of my eyes, I saw you at the doorway, tense. _

_Aizen did. I rubbed my jaws as he spoke in his light yet sly voice:_

"_Ah, Momo…your home early."_

_Your eyes were steely. You were like someone else. If I hadn't known the little girl you were before, I would've never been able to guess that you once admired the man._

"_Don't call me that." You strode over and met him eye to eye. "You promised, you asshole. You promised that if I did that…that __**job**__ that you'd leave Toushiro alone!."_

_Aizen gave that easy smile. "Indeed I did. But, my little Momo…you haven't been doing your job very well. Your tips aren't as large these days."_

"_You bastard! You said! You said!" Your voice changed. This time, it had substance. It was loud. It was angry._

_You tried to hit him, but you—like I had been—were rendered weak as well. He easily caught your thin arm and leaned in closer to your face._

"_You were much easier to handle before you started looking after Toushiro"_

_At that moment—with you and Aizen glaring at each other—I realized the truth of everything._

_I realized that I had failed._

_I was supposed to be the one keeping you smiling—keeping you you. I was supposed to be the shield taking in all the truths of life so that you could remain innocent. I was supposed to be the one who sank while you kept afloat._

_How did the roles reverse?_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Each time I finish a chapter I get more excited about finishing this out for you all (and for my own peace of mind) but sad at the same time. Well, as always, reviews are welcomed!**

**Happy Fourth of July in advance everyone!**


	17. Salvation

**Salvation **

"Ah…it looks like I walked in to a middle of an argument!"

Both the young man and his attorney turn at the enthusiastic voice. The attorney lets go of his client, letting his arm drop. Standing just at the start of the hallway is a woman with orange-blonde, curled hair. Along with her blazer and pencil skirt, she wears a tiny, friendly smile on her lips.

"Matsumoto-san."

"Oooh, formal honorifics…must mean high tension. Don't tell me that this might be the first case you'll ever lose, Kuchiki-kun."

"It might as well be, since Hitsugaya won't let us say anything that could potentially help him." The attorney gritted his teeth in frustration.

A silence passes the three.

"Well, Kurosaki Ichigo's testimony was only supposed to be icing on the cake anyway." She shrugged and a smirk appeared on her lips. "I peeked over at the juror's faces during the trial and it seemed like they were leaning towards us the whole time. Soi Fon knows it too. She walked out of that room with that pissed face for losing to you again."

"I don't care about winning against Soi—

"That's right," The woman brushes past him to face the young man. She smiles softly, "we're fighting for something much more important."

The woman is considered tall, but with high heels on, she still only matches the height of the young man. Despite this, she speaks to him in a careful tone, as if anything more forceful could break him.

"Hitsugaya-kun…I know I'm supposed to be the next witness, but if you don't want me talk about that night, then I won't testify."

The young man's icy blue eyes stare into woman's warm, pale blue eyes. He looks away and murmurs a word of gratitude.

"Well, fifteen minutes are up." She gives a shrug while smiling and starts heading back to the courtroom, walking past the lawyer's flabbergasted expression. But before the lawyer can put up a word of protest, she speaks.

"I'm not testifying, but only on one condition." She glances back over her shoulder to look at the young man and catches his eye. "You have to tell the truth."

He looks away again.

* * *

_The next month after that incident was kind of a blur. All I really can remember about it was the feeling of failure that haunted me. Every time I saw you, I couldn't help but avert my eyes. I thought that I didn't deserve to look you in the eye, that I had disappointed you in a way even you weren't aware of._

_There was this invisible wall between us—kept us from talking, or maybe even looking at each other, honestly—during that month. Maybe I built it out of shame and hatred for myself. Because I truly thought your transformation was my fault. After all, how could I have been so stupid to let you see that incident between me and Aizen a year ago? How could I have not kept my burdens to myself? I thought, you shouldn't come near me. You didn't deserve to be near a person like me, a person who had dragged you into carrying his sorrows so._

_But now that I think about it, perhaps you had the same feelings. Maybe the wall was built by the two of us. Because you didn't bother trying to confront me or make sense of what happened that day. I think, you had the same feeling of shame and failure for not being able to protect me—even if that was supposed to be my job._

_Despite the fact that it had been a year since a blade even touched my skin, the scars were still there. They were fainter and pinker from signs of healing, but they were still, definitely there. Every time I changed in the bathroom, I would see those words, etched like chalk on a board on my back in the mirror. If I remember correctly, it was that month I started making a habit out of staring at those words in the mirror each night._

_I'd read each word backwards from the mirror. There were twenty of them; useless, failure, nothing, nobody, trash…_

_I'm not even sure why I kept up that ritual of looking into the mirror. By a few a few weeks, I already had all the words memorized. I guess, it was just to remind myself of just the kind of person I was—because each time I saw the words, I saw you. _

_You drowning in the darkness in my dream, crying for the help I can't provide._

_You walking alone in the hallways with that transparent look in your eyes and the whispers flying about you._

_You in that bar wearing those clothes and that smile I could see through—the one of desperation._

_And each time I saw those images of you, I believed in those words on my back. I was almost glad, in a way, that the scars wouldn't go away. Because I thought they belonged to me._

_They were me._

_Those scars are still on my back today. All forty of them. Although…only thirty-eight match in that neat, legible etching. Two of them—the phrase on my left forearm—are messier in handwriting and more spaced out from inexperience. _

_Those are the ones I cut myself._

_On the night I made that cut, I wanted to stop suffocating myself in my own hatred—I wanted to __**do **__something about it. Something about that night made me angrier and angrier as I glared at the reflection of my bare back. And before I realized what I was doing, I snatched a pocket knife and started carving into my forearm._

_It wasn't like it made me feel better or anything of the sort, like those types of kids I've heard about. Actually, it stung all the same. Nothing was different. The blood still scared me in a way and the pain in my arm was almost unbearable._

_But I kept going until I finished._

_**Save us.**_

_That was the promise I made to myself. To save us. To pull us from this mess no matter what it would take. And there it was, tangible on my arm. Maybe I did it because if I could my vow visible, then actually reaching the goal would be just as possible. _

_That etching served as kind of wrenching hope and determination for me back then._

_Now, like the rest of the thirty-eight words, it's just another reminder of my failure _

* * *

_One of my other routines in that month was sitting in that bakery—the one that had the cakes you loved so much. I think I spent a whole day there. I would watch working parents rush in and out for a cup of coffee in the morning, students come in to buy pastries and chat after school, couples drop by for a peaceful place to whisper in the evening._

_I think the waiters must have whispered about me once or twice. I didn't notice it at the time, but I'm guessing now that they must have. For it must have been strange for a thin, gaunt boy to sit lifelessly at a table the whole day without ordering a thing._

_I honestly don't think I tasted a single thing from that small menu they offered. Except for that time I ran into her._

_That's where I met her, by the way—at the bakery._

_It was an evening and I was about to get out of the chair I had been sitting in for—I stopped counting hours by then. It was even hard for me to push myself from a chair during that time, I barely ate. _

_That particular evening, I found my face buried into a woman's chest the moment I stood up. I immediately shifted away and must have tripped on something, because I fell down in the process._

_My head was dizzy and my sight turned black for seconds. It took a while for me to realize where I was. Then I saw a woman peering at me—the same woman I crashed into._

"_Are you okay?" She looked worried._

_From where I was, she was extremely tall. Her hair was orange-blonde and wavy. She had this distinctive mark above a side of her lips. Even more distinctive—impossible to notice, even—was her chest._

_When I realized that was what my face had encountered, I felt my face go red._

"_I'm fine." I pushed myself back up._

"_Do you need help?" She offered me a hand._

_For some reason, that got me really frustrated and I shouted: "I said I'm fine!" I slapped her hand away and tried to run, except she managed to grab my arm. And at that point, I was too weak to struggle out of her grasp._

_I felt her eyes on me. It wasn't in a menacing way. It wasn't even degrading. The feeling I got was something of sadness. It was sympathy—I get that now. But I didn't back then, so I just looked down at the ground._

"_Have…have you eaten anything?" She tried to catch my eye._

"_Yeah." I lied. _

_She doesn't reply for a moment, as if contemplating how to handle me. Then she says, "But I bet you've never had a cake from here!"_

_And so she ordered me one. _

_I ignored her as I devoured the thing. But once it was finished and there was nothing to occupy myself with, I realized how extremely awkward the situation was. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. When I peered over at the woman, I noticed that see was looking at my arm with this look in her eyes that reminded me of Kurosaki's. Realizing that she must have been observing the scars, I drew my hand back._

"_Can I at least know your name?" _

"_Hitsugaya…Toushiro…" I looked down at my hand._

"_Listen Hitsugaya-kun…do…do you need anything?" She asked softly. It was in this careful manner, like handling porcelain._

"_No." No I didn't. I knew who she was, one of those social workers who thought they could fix everything and save the world. She was wrong—there was more than that. I wasn't any other little boy who could be fixed. I had much more at stake than just me._

_I didn't need any more trouble. I didn't need another excuse for Aizen to hurt me or even more importantly, you._

_I dared myself to look her in the eyes, just to further ensure her that my lies were true. But I think, by that point, I was even running out of spirit to lie, because that softness in her eyes just suggested the possibility of freedom—and at that I think at that point my eyes gave away something and showed a little piece of the truth._

"_Well, fine then." She finally broke the silence with her false, cheery voice. She stood up, straightened out her pencil skirt and fixed her scarf. Looking at me, she smiles and pats my hand._

"_Have a nice life then." _

_But before she walks away, the click of her heels stop and she adds on gently:_

"_You really do deserve one."_

_I didn't watch her leave, but I did hear sound of bells as the door shut. That was because I was too busy looking at the card in my hand. White. Uniform. Small. _

_MASTUMOTO RANGIKU_

_(450)-374-6637_

* * *

_Eventually, my routine of reminding myself of my scars in the bathroom was broken. The night I made my own mark on myself became the last night I spent in the bathroom looking at the letters on my body. If that night hadn't happened, I wonder how long it would've taken me to stop. Or maybe I would still be staring at them in the mirror today._

_You'll have to forgive me if I don't tell you everything about that night. It's not that I don't remember it. I actually recall it quite well (how could I forget it if it appears so often in my nightmares?). It's just that I can't bring myself to write about the whole thing since doing so would just be like being there all over again._

_It was a weekend that I had been wasting away by walking aimlessly in town yet again. The sky was getting dark and it seemed even darker since I had started making a habit out of wandering into small alleyways. _

_I eventually found myself in the area where you worked, except you weren't there. I remember getting this hope that you had quit, and that your absence implied a sort of change that was about to occur. _

_Only it was a change for the worse. For I found you a few alleys over. _

"_Come on…you've got to be used to this, a girl like you in that bar."_

"_Leave…me…alone!"_

_At first, I could've passed it as any other struggle between a girl on the streets and some drunken man. Something that disgusted me but wasn't really my business. It's not that I never felt bad for the victims of all these crimes I passed by—it's just that, there was nothing I could do to help. _

_The world had so many things wrong with it—nothing could save it._

_I couldn't even save you in time. _

"_Please…stop!"_

_I could hear the heavy breathing of disgusting men. The rustle of clothing. The struggle. I remember this really bad feeling, a stone in my stomach. Something told me to go over and stop it. And then, that voice confirmed it._

"_Help me! Shiro-chan!"_

_I don't know what compelled you to call out my name. But I ran towards your voice and found you, almost bare except for the undergarments that were even slightly shifted. _

_Anger. That's really all I felt at first for the man in front of you. He called me a shrimp. Told me to mind my own business. But that was his fault: you were my business._

_I think I lost myself for the next few moments. I don't remember for how long, you would be able to tell me that if you still remember. I faintly recall feeling pain for a few of the blows I received. I think I even bit the man a few times. _

_The results I can picture in my head like it was just yesterday. The man was on the ground, his face swollen and his unshaved beard bloodied. His tattered clothes were soiled even more with dark red. His body was covered in cuts and bruises. _

_I remember wondering if I did that, almost horrified that I was capable of such things. _

_I must have been a mess to—to you. I couldn't stand, both my legs were badly bruised—one was bent awkwardly from the knee. I could taste the metallic taste of blood I recognized all too well. All the gashes that once healed were fresh and angry red along with new injuries. My head felt woozy and my hair sticky for I could see that a strand of it was stained crimson. Every part of me hurt._

"_Sh-Sh-Shiro-chan…" _

_It took every last bit of effort for me to turn around. Just to see your frail, bare body. I looked away quickly, the feelings all crashing down on me harder than any of the hits I took._

_But it was too late. The image of you was stuck in my head. _

_Your pale skin, bones rattling and shivering from feelings other than fright underneath. You sat there, hugging yourself, trying to stifle back hiccups and sobs—the noises of your crying playing in my head. Your makeup ran down your cheeks, staining your tears black. _

_In the end, the little girl you were and the young woman you became were all the same. Both were people I couldn't bear to see broken._

_I don't know how long it stayed like that as you shook and sobbed. I crawled over to you, with my head turned away, and put my dirtied jacket over your back—the only shield I could provide you with._

_What else could I have done? We had nowhere to go. That building we slept in wasn't really home. No one could help us because all it would end in was more hurt. We never stopped being orphans. Unwanted. Uncared. Just like the women in the supermarket said: people like us had no place here._

_It was a last ditch attempt, and I struggled to pull it out of my pockets with my broken fingers. _

_The little white card. _

_I took the cell phone that my friends gave me a year ago and dialed the number. The phone on the other end rung, and I begged for hear a voice. _

"_Hello?"_

"_It's Hitsugaya." My voice cracked._

"_Hitsugaya-kun! Are you alright? Where are you?"_

"_Please…please help us."_

* * *

**A/N: I thought about uploading this on the Sunday before the 4****th**** of July, but then went against it because I thought it would be a dreary way to spend such a weekend…and plus nobody would've bothered reading it on a holiday anyway. Hahaha.**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated as always!**


	18. Apologies

**Apologies**

"Order. Order." Judge Yamamoto raps his gavel against the sound block to quickly silence the incoming audience. Most of the attendants have already returned to their seats, with a few stragglers coming in late. The judge peers over at the defense desk.

"Well, Counselor Kuchiki, are you ready to send your next witness to the stand?"

"The defense would like to change their testimony arrangement." The lawyer replied stiffly, as if he is unwilling to make such a decision.

"The defense is just full of surprises today." The judge replies, his voice monotone to disguise the sarcastic nature of his words. "Go ahead."

"The defense would like to discard the testimony of Matsumoto Rangiku and bring the defendant to the stand."

"And this will be the final witness?"

"Yes." The defense attorney tersely replies, "The defense calls Hitsugaya Toushiro to the stand."

The young man stands and takes a shuddery breath before walking slowly towards the stand. He is only a few feet away but the walk seems to take an eternity to him. Swearing in, he can feel Kuchiki Byakuya and Matsumoto Rangiku's eyes on him.

"Please state your name to the jury please."

He takes a breath and looks up. He can see them all—watching him.

Fine then. He was ready.

"Hitsugaya…Toushiro."

* * *

_Matsumoto Rangiku's house was cozy and warm. That's what you told me one time. But as I'm trying to picture her place right now. I'm not quite sure why you liked it so much. It wasn't anything like those little cottages in the forest that you would make me look at in the fairy tale books. There was nothing particularly special about it—just that Aizen never set foot in it._

_The night—that night—she drove us back to her place, the two of us were really—how can I put it in words?—blank. Or maybe empty is a better way to put it. It was as if the two of us didn't know what to do with ourselves. _

_She never asked what happened when she found us in that alley, not even when we reached her house. She quietly helped you to one of the rooms and got you bathed and changed and all. It rung in my ear while I was waiting at the kitchen table for her to come back—she was helping you in your new room, getting bathed and changed and all. As for me—I washed myself off and changed into one of her T-shirts (which was oversized on me). But even after I was finished with all that, she still wasn't done helping you._

_The first impression I had of her place was that the clock in the kitchen was loud. Its ticking was deafening in the silence that I waited in as I sat at the kitchen counter. When I heard her come in, she reached in the fridge and poured herself a beer. She slid a glass of milk over to me, and then sat next to me._

_I looked at the milk. Something got stuck in my throat at that time. I remember thinking how stupid I was, getting so emotional over a thing as trivial as a glass of milk. But, when was the last time I ever got to enjoy any insignificant detail in life?_

_I turned to the minute clinking sound of the ice in Matsumoto's glass. Over the noising ticking, I heard her ask softly._

"_Do you want to talk about it?"_

_The shock about me must have slowed my sense of time, because I saw her lips move first and her question didn't reach me until minutes later. I remember feeling numb too, but I think I shook my head. _

_The ticking echoed._

_I heard a small sigh escape her lips as she said, "You remind me so much of him."_

_Her voice, it was filled with this sort of feeling that I couldn't help to side glance at her. Those pale blue eyes shared the same exact feeling as they stared into the glass, and that was when I realized that it was this sort of sadness mixed in with nostalgia._

_She gives this small laugh—but there was no humor in it. "You two are the first kids to have ever come to me, you know."_

"_Why…why do you bother…" I looked at my hands, "…helping people like us?" _

_The tiniest smile appears on her lips as she stares at the clock. "That's a fair question. How about this? I'll tell you my story and you can tell me yours. Deal?"_

_I don't nod, but she goes on anyway._

"_My life was a lot different from yours. I was the only child in my family. Mom was a teacher. Dad was a businessman. I went Karakura High here before going off to college." _

_She stopped. I notice her glance at me for a moment, and from the look on her face, I could somehow tell that she had more to say._

"_I had a friend when I lived here…He…he actually looked a lot like you. The same hair almost—well, the color at least. Other girls thought he was weird, but I liked him, he was different. But sometimes, there would be this look on his face that made him seem so much older than he was—like he understood far more things than everyone else. He'd disappear from school a lot and come in the next day with bruises. I would ask him about it, but he would never tell me. Instead he'd tell me that it wasn't worth my ears."_

_She took a sip from the glass and then swirls it in her hands. "He disappeared for a year in high school and I never saw him till my senior year. By then, his father had already gone to jail for child abuse. But when I saw him, he was someone entirely different from the boy I had befriended. He became the very person he hated. I wonder how he is right now…"_

"_Anyways, long story short: I promised myself that I wouldn't let that happen to kids like him and went into college majoring in social work. Tried to turn myself into a super hero. It didn't work."_

_She looked at me._

"_Your turn."_

_Maybe it was the milk or the story she told me. Maybe I wasn't thinking clearly back then. But something compelled me to trust her and take a leap of faith. So I handed our safety to the outside world again—I spoke. _

_I told her everything. The orphanage. Aizen. Ukitake. Sarugaki. You._

_Once I started, I couldn't stop. I guess I figured that since I told part of it, I might as well have told the rest. It was all or nothing. Or maybe I thought that nothing could possibly help us at that point anyway._

_By the time I was done—by the time my story reached the present—I looked at the clock: it had taken me an hour and a half. My glass of milk wasn't finished but Matsumoto's glass was empty except for the melted ice. _

_Before I could look to her, she got up and wrapped her arms around me. I think she was crying, because I caught a glimpse of moisture on her eyelashes before she embraced me. _

"_Maybe you think the world is like this, since you've dealt with it for so long. But for a person like me..."_

_She trailed off and didn't finish the thought. Instead, she whispered:_

"_I'm so sorry."_

* * *

_The exhaustion hit me once I walked into my new room to sleep. Since Matsumoto had just moved in and there was barely any furniture, there were only two bedrooms set up and we had to share a room. _

_Our room had two mattresses on the ground. You had the one closest to the window. I remember that because I recall the moonlight streaming in on your hair and face every night, making you look completely silver. _

"_Toushiro-kun." _

_I heard your voice as I crawled underneath my covers and set my head on my pillow. At first, I thought I was just dreaming—you should've been asleep by then. But then I heard the shuffling of bed sheets and saw your shadow move. _

"_Are you awake?"_

"_Yeah." I didn't turn but kept my eyes open as I laid on my side facing away from you._

"_I…I just wanted to say that I quit today…that…job."_

_I was unsure of what to say, so I allowed silence to take over._

"_I wanted to help you, Toushiro-kun. He said that if I did what he said he wouldn't hurt you again."_

_I felt you stiffen and your voice become tenser. _

"_But he lied to me. I didn't do anything for you in the end. You still had to save me today." _

_Suddenly, as if some great weight collapsed on you, your tone became smaller and more fragile as you said:_

"_I'm still the same as before. I'm still useless."_

"_That's not true."_

_If I could, I would've stood up and shouted that at you. I would've told you that I liked you the way you were, no matter what. That all you had to do was stay you and that was enough to keep me going. But my whole body was aching and couldn't stand any strenuous activity. And furthermore: I was still a kid—how could I have put those feelings into spoken words? _

_But my words weren't convincing enough. Even if I actually said everything that I wanted to say to you, it probably wouldn't be enough._

"_He was hurting you all that time before, wasn't he? And I just thought everything was perfect. I couldn't even notice that you were suffering all for me. I'm such a horrible friend." _

_I heard the horror and the self-contempt dripping from your voice, noticed your shadow hug the pillow tightly, as if choking it. _

"_I'm the most awful person in the world. You must have hated me."_

"_Momo—_

"_Those bruises and cuts I saw you with on the ground that day…I can still see them in my head. They should've been on me too."_

_I struggled to sit up and face her. But before I could manage to do the turning around part, your question stopped me._

"_Are…are they still there? The wounds?"_

"_Yeah." I quietly responded, staring at the wall._

"_Can…I see?" You whispered._

_I slowly pulled my shirt off, revealing my back to you. Keeping my eyes forward, I didn't dare look at the expression on your face. For some reason, I could feel the glow of the moon on each letter, each word on my back. You could see them clearly, and it almost made me hurt all over again, letting you see them. _

_I felt your finger gently brush over one of the scars, tracing over the words on my skin. I remember the jolt I felt. The rush of electricity through me. I could sense half of your emotions run down my spine and half of mine. _

"_Did…did it hurt?"_

_For that moment, I pretend to misunderstand you. I knew you were asking about the months I spent being your scapegoat for Aizen. But I hoped that you meant to ask about the injuries on my back. I hoped that you would accept the answer and move on so I wouldn't have to lie to you again or make you feel guilty._

"_They did at the time but they're just scars now. They don't hurt at all." I kept my tone light, hopelessly wishing that you would fall for it. _

_You probably would've had it been a year ago. But you had grown._

_Just like how I could partially sense your thoughts at that moment, I think you must have sensed mine. You were not the little girl I could easily blind. I couldn't put my hands over your eyes anymore. You could see right through me._

_We stayed like that for a while. Your soft hand on my coarse, scared back. The two of us, in the sliver glow of the night in silence, coming to terms with the years of childhood we had lost. _

_I turned my head a bit, curious to see you. But all I saw was a trickle of a teardrop, sparkling in the light, fall onto the mattress._

"_I'm sorry, Toushiro-kun."_

_I wondered why you were apologizing for the world for what they had done to us._


	19. Retaliation

**Retaliation**

"Hitsugaya Toushiro. How did you meet Hinamori Momo?" Kuchiki Byakuya stares at his client intently. He usually spends more time ensuring that he makes eye contact with the jury—it was part of the proper orating skills he was taught in law school. But this time was different.

"I was taking a walk outside of the orphanage. She…she fell from a tree on top of me."

"And what was your opinion of her then?"

He looks at the girl's face, seeing that it is filled with doubt, confusion, and most likely several other emotions that cannot be named. He hesitates, as if a thousand doubts of his own storm in his mind.

"Hitsugaya-san?"

He snaps back to attention and slowly says. "I liked her. She was my friend. She smiled a lot. She was clueless but everyone was happy when she was around. She trusted anyone and everyone because she always expected the best out of people. That was really stupid of her and it got annoying sometimes but that was the way she was. But then she…she started worry way too much about others and not enough about herself. She started to learn how to put on a fake smile even if she wasn't alright. She, she let herself get hurt for others and in the end…"

He trails off, realizing that he could not allow himself to speak anymore. But once he started, the images and memories raced through him, and came out as words. The pounding of his heart reached his ears. He did not expect this to happen.

The attorney looks worriedly at him. The boy looks at him and the audience, who seem to have the same expression of…was it sympathy? He cannot tell. He is almost confused for a second. Then his eyes begin to sting and he closes them, trying to rub the dust out with a swipe of his finger.

It is then that he realizes that his eyes weren't watering because of dust.

There are more tears threatening to mist over his eyes, but he has to finish. There is something more he has say to them—or maybe he needs to hear them himself.

"…But…she is still Momo."

* * *

_The next two weeks after that night were so—I guess I would put it as—quiet. Each time I woke up, I spent moments staring up at the foreign ceiling, trying to recall where I was. It was odd, being able to wake up and have a homemade breakfast waiting for me, being able to walk on the floor without tripping over a glass bottle, being able to walk into the kitchen and see a person with a caring smile on her face._

_I think you were unsure too—if all of it was some sort of dream. The two of us were worried that we'd wake up and find ourselves back in that hell hole. _

_There would be nights when you'd have these nightmares. I don't know what they were like, but they must have been the same because every time you'd scream and writhe under the covers. On those nights, I would crawl over and hold your hand as you continued to battle whatever it was haunting you in your sleep. When it first started happening, I'd try calling your name and shaking you. But eventually, as the nights went on, I realized that everything I would try to wake you couldn't help you escape whatever you were facing. Instead, I submitted to simply sitting by your side with your hand, hoping that my touch could help. _

_During the day, Matsumoto would stay with us. The two of us didn't bother attending school and spent much of our time inside. There would be days when she would take us out to get some fresh air. When she announced these outings, I think I would see these sudden sparks of fear flash in your eyes for the slightest second. While walking through town, your eyes would flit about, as if at any moment something horrible could crawl up on us from the shadows. _

_There was this one day, while we were waiting for Matsumoto to finish shopping, when we thought we saw Aizen. We were standing underneath a tree on the sidewalk and you dropped your pudding. The expression on your face gave me this chill and I looked in the direction you were staring wide-eyed at. A car sped by and I caught sight of him through the windows. Those scheming eyes behind glasses and that shadowy smile._

_Around that time, I realized that that night really instilled this kind of fear in you, like some kind of arrow tipped with ghastly nightmares. But as I write about it now, I wonder if those terrors were actually there the whole time since you figured out the truth about Aizen. Maybe your brave façade was just broken by that night._

_I didn't know what I could do to make you stop shuddering. Even when you noticed me watching you carefully and told me you were alright, I could tell that the smile was forced—you couldn't fool me anymore. _

_As we walked behind Matsumoto on the way home, I couldn't think of any way to make you feel safe. You'd grown so much from the little girl that fell out of the tree. I couldn't make you smile by trying to make a fool out of myself or giving you a piece of candy. So what could I do? Could I even do anything for you anymore?_

_Finally, I did the simplest thing: I took your hand in mine. I thought, just like how I thought I could help with your nightmares, that just showing you that I understood what you were going through could help. I wanted to show you that it was okay for you to be scared—I was there with you every step of the way._

_You snapped out of your trance and looked at me. _

_I remember—and I could almost laugh about it now—the questions that flew through my mind that moment you looked at me. Should I have done that? Would you take that the wrong way? What was I thinking about doing that? _

"_Toushiro-kun…your face looks like a tomato…" _

_My face must have been extremely red then. And once I realized that, I think even more heat crept up the back of my neck—I didn't even think that was possible._

"_It got even redder…"_

"_Shut up! Your face is red too!" I retaliated._

_I saw you stop and touch your face with your other hand. I think you were shocked to see that your face was flushed as well. I looked away in embarrassment. _

_This sort of noise escaped from your lips and curiosity led me to glance back. You were giggling. And pretty soon, the two of us were both laughing—that was the first time I heard you laugh or see you truly smile in what felt like years. _

_I don't even know what was so funny about the situation. Maybe it was the awkwardness of it all, or maybe the trivialness that gave us a break and allowed us to pause at the smallest little things in life. _

_I remember that day as one of the happiest days in my life, although in comparison to any other high school kid's life, it would seem like any normal day. But that day was different. Because that day was a day that the both of us laughed again—just like the old days._

_Then there was that smile you gave me afterwards when we reached the Matsumoto's place. The two of us looked down and realized that our hands were still intertwined. I felt that warmth—the kind that was starting to become familiar—fill me again as I looked at you. _

_The smile you gave me was different from the ones before. It wasn't fake. It wasn't carefree. It wasn't any of the smiles you've ever had. Your cheeks were slightly pink and your lips were curved in a sort of shy way. _

"_Thanks Toushiro." _

* * *

_To be quite honest, I grew really comfortable with those days at Matsumoto's. There would be times when we'd eat together at the table, and I'd stop and think that this was what it should be like—me and you with a parent, maybe even two, as a family. When I thought about this, it would give me this thrill—maybe this jolt of happiness. This must have shown on my face, because there would be times at dinner when you'd smile at me and ask me why I was smiling._

_Maybe the greater reason for my like for those days was you—being with you. After that night you asked me about my wounds, we started talking more and more. It felt like we were really friends again._

_Of course, it wasn't the same as before. I had a sense of that even then—that the friendship we had as children couldn't be rebuilt—but I couldn't exactly explain to myself why. But thinking back on it, I know that it was impossible because I saw you differently. _

_Years ago, you were the sweet, innocent Momo I wanted to protect._

_But now you were…different. You weren't blissfully ignorant and I couldn't change that. But you were still kind…and as I started to talk to you more face to face…I developed this sort of trust in you. I could tell you anything because we were the same. Despite all that drove us apart and forced us to change, you were the Momo I wanted to stay with._

_But of course, those days only lasted a couple weeks. The both of us were expecting it—we knew that we couldn't stay in that fake peace forever. I had this feeling—and maybe you had it as well—that something had to be done before we could truly move forward with our lives. Yet at the same time, I was scared to take that first step—scared that if I made a move, I would end up falling all over again._

_So when I found a lawyer in the living room one morning, this sort of sick feeling punched me in the stomach. _

_We were walking down the hall from our room and caught sight of this tall man wearing a navy suit. Before I could slip into the kitchen with you, he turned to me, the length of the black hair swaying behind him. I felt his violet-gray eyes on me, stopping me in my tracks. _

"_Ah! Toushiro-kun! Momo-chan!" Matsumoto clapped in that typical cheery attitude of hers and waved us over. "This is Kuchiki Byakuya-kun!"_

"_Pleasure to meet you, Hitsugaya-kun." The man held out his hand to me. _

_I remember wondering why he didn't greet you too. But then I looked over my shoulder and found you shying behind me, looking at the ground as if you were scared of him. That was when I realized that I was almost a bit scared of him too. But I wrongly pinpointed the source of our anxiousness: we weren't scared of him at all. We were just frightened of the significance of his appearance, the forward push away from peace—the peace we felt we had just regained—he signified. _

"_No." I glared at him, raising my head at an—what I would've found at the time—embarrassingly large angle to meet his eyes. He raised an eyebrow and, not wanting to lose this stand-off, I continued to look him in the eyes as I said, "We're not doing it."_

_I think both of them knew what I meant by those words. I even thought this sort of worry—almost a sort of desperation- flash through Matsumoto's eyes. But before I could decide if my eyes were playing tricks on me, she smiled gaily and replied in that typical light voice:_

"_Toushiro-kun, you don't even know what's going on yet." _

"_Yes. I do." I bluntly responded and pointed at the man. "He's a lawyer. Your sending us to court against Aizen." _

_A sort of silence engulfed us at that moment. And I remember just how angry I felt during that period. Angry at the stranger I glared at. Angry at Matsumoto for bringing that man in and pretending with that happy levity, like nothing was wrong. Angry at myself for getting angry._

"_Toushiro-kun…" The way she said my name. The way it dropped to this gentle voice. I hated it. It made me seem like some sort of frightened child who needed persuasion to be brave. "You just need to say a few things in front of the jury. Nothing will happen to you two."_

_I'm not sure when it developed, but I came to have this faint sixth sense about your feelings. Before, when we were younger, I never needed it since all I ever needed to do was look at your face. But I found that it gradually came to me when we arrived at Matsumoto's—the night we started talking again. Years ago, when you were a little girl, you would've probably started sniffing and tears would've started to roll down your cheeks. But you were older now, and instead, no noise came. Even so, I could sense this cold atmosphere—this sort of stiffness trying to mask fear—from you._

_Maybe you were thinking of the many possible outcomes fate would punish us with for trying to challenge the very man who trampled our lives for years. I was. And I knew that Matsumoto was right to use that voice—I was scared. _

"_Please…be brave. I know you two can do it." She kneels down and looks me in the eye for encouragement._

_We had been brave. I had forty written scars on my body, all of which I was conscious to scream in pain for as they were carved into my skin. I burdened countless of injuries in silence for years, without dragging anyone into my dark reality. You left your care-free world, turned yourself into someone you hated all in hushed secret in order to protect me. We both were alive—though barely—even with all that happened to us._

_Wasn't that brave enough?_

_Why couldn't we, for once, be given the luxury that most children are entitled to and allow ourselves to cower behind someone else?_

"_Then you expect too much out of us." I replied, and we left the two adults standing in the living room._

* * *

_While the two of us sat silently in our room, the shame I felt for walking away hit me. Although I was scared, I realized that it could be our chance to finally move on and possibly lead normal lives. But as I contemplated being free, these images of Aizen's dark smile appeared before my eyes. I probably sat there for two hours, trying to fight them away._

_Something growled and snapped me from my trance. I look down and realize that it's my stomach. The same noise comes from you as well and you give a small smile at me. _

"_I'll get us something." I got up to leave for the kitchen. _

_When I reached the cold tile floor of the kitchen, I heard a man's voice from the living room and saw that the two adults were still there—only they were sitting by the coffee table. _

"_So you actually moved back here." _

"_I just moved back a few months ago. Surprised?"_

"_Well, yes. I…thought of you as more of a city woman."_

"_Me too. I actually tried living away for a while after college, but I just found myself here again." _

_Silence._

"_Were you looking for Ichimaru?"_

"_I know you never liked him Byakuya-kun, but it wasn't his fault he turned that way. Before that, he was my closest friend."_

"_He is still accountable for his—_

"_I know that."_

_Uncomfortable with eavesdropping about their lives, I was about to walk away, but then I heard the lawyer ask:_

"_Are you planning to adopt the two?"_

_I pause and subconsciously held my breath._

"_To be honest, I'm not even sure if I can handle kids. I can barely handle myself. But…" Her voice softens, "I think I might."_

"_You do know that the grandparents might want custody of the girl, right?"_

_Matsumoto's voice seemed to echo the same confusion I had, "Momo-chan told me she was an orphan…"_

"_Then she must not remember. Does she remember her last name?"_

"_Yeah…Hinamori…Hinamori! Is she related to Hinamori-san, our middle school teacher?"_

"_Hinamori Sakura, she died in a home accident. Police found several bruises and scars on her body made before death over several years. They accused her husband, Aizen Sousuke of spousal abuse, but they didn't provide enough evidence to court. Had they had Hinamori and Aizen's daughter as a witness, they most likely would've had him locked up. She went missing on the day of her mother's death and was never found."_

_That was when I remembered what you told me when I first met you. __**Running away. **__You didn't know what you were running from, but it was something horrible. And now I know what compelled you to run away._

_This sickening feeling hit my stomach and I felt like I wanted to vomit. _

_I heard a click and looked down the hallway. Remember that sixth sense I told you about? Well, I could feel this sort of boiling fury—frightening almost—and I knew it wasn't from me. Panic overwhelmed me, and I rushed over to our room. _

_You weren't there._

_You weren't anywhere in the house. _

_I was about to call Matsumoto. My voice was creeping up to yell desperately for help, because there was this fluttering in my stomach, like some kind of omen for what was to come. But I swallowed it down when I saw small droplets of water stains on the floor by the entrance to the living room._

_They were tears._

_And they were not mine._

_I looked up and down the hallway._

_The front door was open. _

_And from both fright and dread, my heart felt like it plummeted a thousand feet. _

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter took a bit longer. I went on vacation and had a sudden panic attack over summer homework (I get those sometimes) so I rushed to finish it all. Procrastination scares me…a lot.**

**As always, thanks for reading!**


	20. Murderer

**Murderer**

"Hitsugaya-san…"

The defendant on the stand notices the concern in his lawyer's eyes. He gives a small nod, indicating that he is capable of continuing. But for the rest of the questions that follows, the lawyer notices his client reply in a curt manner—as if he is trying to hide as much of the truth as possible. This realization crosses his mind—a realization of what his client may be doing. He casts it aside for the time being, for there is nothing contradictory in the boy's answers. But as he approaches his final question, the doubt in his mind grows stronger.

Finally, the lawyer asks:

"Hitsugaya-san, what happened the night Sousuke Aizen died?"

He looks at the girl at the prosecution desk and manages to meet her eyes.

Now he is certain with his choice.

* * *

_I searched the school. The playground. The café. The candy shop…_

_I saw everything but you. _

_It's a wonder how I managed to run around town without passing out. But I remember seeing everything start to swirl into one, dark murky color, yet being able to dash past cars in the streets. I wanted to tear at my throat—which was burning for air—and cursed my legs for not being able to run faster. _

_Then there was the beating inside my chest. It was as if my heart was some sort of creature of its own, leaping and crashing against my insides. _

_But that never mattered. And even though it never once crossed my mind that my body was screaming for me to rest, I tripped and fell._

_My body wouldn't let me get back up. When I tried, my useless legs—weak from sprinting and fear—collapsed under me. I could do nothing but curse myself._

_If I had the strength to scream at that moment, I would've. I wanted to yell for you, scream my frustration, let out my fear. I could—even through the black spots impeding my vision—see insects on the grass crawl slowly past me, as if mocking my immobility. As the sun beamed overhead, trying to burn me to death for my weakness, I gave up trying to yell at myself in my head._

_Actually, I think I gave up trying to think at all for a while. I let my mind wander, but all it did was bring me images of the times we used to spend together. You standing on my shoulder, trying to reach the highest peach on the tree. You giggling at me to wake up in the morning. You with your head on my shoulder, falling asleep without warning on top of the roof at night._

_That's right…that roof. Where was it again?_

_The sun became bright in my eyes and I try pushing myself one more time off the ground—it works. I can stand. _

_More importantly, I knew where you were._

_But even so, as I started towards my destination, I prayed that my guess wouldn't be right. Even if it meant finding you, I prayed that I wouldn't find you there. I don't even know who I prayed to. I wasn't even religious—I had lost faith in anything a long time ago._

_At the start of the street I started shuddering. It was weird, how much a few weeks at Matsumoto's place changed me. The place I went to everyday suddenly seemed so frightening. Although it was midday, I thought I saw shadows following me, waiting for their chance to grab me._

_The touch of a sharp edge against my back told me I wasn't hallucinating. I was all too familiar with that cold blade, yet I never could get accustomed to the panic it sent throughout my body._

"_Toushiro-kun…where were you?" _

_I didn't turn my head to the voice. I didn't need to. The stench of alcohol and the sinister-covered-in-false-kindness tone that constantly frustrated me was enough._

"_Away. You bastard."_

"_I missed you two so much." _

_I could sense a small smile creep on his lips. I wanted to scream, reveal him to the world: here is the man who ruined my life! Here is the murderer! As if he senses the child inside me, he presses the blade a bit more into my flesh. _

"_Let's have some snacks back home and wait for Momo. Quietly." He said this in that kind of voice—that voice that seems like he is kind and asking you, like he cares. But it is all fake—just like his smile._

…_**and wait for Momo.**_

_Ignoring the blade threatening to cut through my skin, I was almost relieved. Aizen's words proved to me that you weren't there. I was about to thank the sky—or whatever I prayed to._

_But then I walked through the door._

_And standing before me, in the shadows intruded by light, was you. But I almost had to make sure it was you._

_Because you were holding a gun._

_I felt my knees give under me again, but forced myself steady. _

_If Aizen shared my shock, he displayed none of it. "My, my, my…Momo…it's been so long! Come! Give me a hug!" Despite his words, he stayed behind me with the knife._

_It was silent, yet the air screamed of something horrible—like ghosts shrieking death._

"_I remember now." Your voice matched your eyes, filled with this indescribable fury. It was as if your anger had burned through of the light in your eyes and left nothing but emptiness. "I remember everything." You pointed at the living room, "That's where you hit her every night" Then at the staircase, "That's where you killed her." Then you pointed to the bathroom in the hallway, "and that's where I watched."_

_Aizen edged slightly closer towards you, forcing me to do the same._

"_Don't move!" You whip back towards us, both hands on the gun._

"_It's a lie, Momo…whoever told you that was lying. I love you, you know that…" He cooed. I wanted to barf._

"_Shut up!" Tears stream down your eyes. "Shut up! You are the liar! You're the monster!"_

_He couldn't get you to calm down and trust him. I wasn't even sure why he believed he could've even won your trust back. So then he tried something different._

"_Momo…please put the gun down. You wouldn't want Toushiro-kun to get hurt, right?"_

_The blade swiped through my lower back and I felt a hot flash. I couldn't help put let out a cry of pain._

"_Hurt? Hurt? We're so used to hurt now. It doesn't even matter anymore. But I'm going to set things right." _

_I saw you try to settle your shaking, fragile arms as you placed a finger on the trigger._

_Aizen chuckled. "You can't do it Momo. I know you."_

_Three cracks shattered my eardrums and Aizen quickly grabbed my hair, twisting me towards him. I yelled out in pain, my hair felt as it if was going to be ripped out, but then I realized the knife was know against my throat. I didn't dare move, but I saw three holes that ripped clean through the walls behind me._

"_Momo…" I sensed his tone becoming colder and more threatening. "Be a good girl and give me the gun, or I'll have to punish you and Toushiro…You don't want to be a murderer, do you?"_

"_Murderer? Me?" You laugh, and to be honest, it scared the hell out of me. It didn't sound like you at all. In fact, the girl before me—I could barely accept that it was you. "That sounds nice…murdering a murderer. Go ahead. Kill Toushiro-kun. I'll kill you anyway. Then I'll kill myself."_

"_You don't mean that Momo…you know that." Aizen thought that you were bluffing. I heard the triumph in his voice. He believed you weren't capable. But me, I wasn't so certain. The person before us wasn't either of the Momos I knew. It wasn't the scaredy-cat Momo I first met or the quiet, compassionate Momo I just started to get to know. This stranger was filled with so much hatred—so much that I didn't even know was possible_

_As your hysterical laughs died, you spoke, "You can't kill Toushiro. You can't kill me. You bastard, don't you know? You can't murder a person twice. We died a long time ago."_

_The muscle in the arms that held me tensed and my heart felt like it was about to break from my chest. I watched you, wide-eyed and useless. But that wasn't—for once—the feeling raging through my body. _

_I was scared._

_At the last word you said, I saw your hatred through your tears and your finger start to press down on the trigger. The last thing I saw was your lips, I couldn't hear what came out, but I saw them mouth: _

"_Die."_

"_Momo, don't!" I screamed._

_You fired._


	21. Love Toushiro

**Love Toushiro**

"Hitsugaya-san? Hitsugaya-san?"

The young man doesn't answer.

"Young man, please answer the question."

He hears the judge losing patience in the back of his mind.

The lawyer's eyes widen as he realizes that what his client is about to do. He quickly strides over and slams his fist onto the surface of the desk as he hisses in fear.

"Don't."

_That was the end. _

_That was when I lost everything. You were wrong, about what you said before killing Aizen with that single bullet, lodged in his head. Wrong about how I had died long before._

_That moment when you fired. That was the moment I died._

_Because right after that, I lost the only thing I ever truly cared about: I lost you._

_When I slowly pushed Aizen's corpse from me and looked at him, it was weird. He looked like a man. Just any other man. But then I looked at you, slumped over, your legs unable to burden the weight that had been piling on top of your shoulders for months. _

_You looked as if there were devils haunting you. _

_Pupils dilated, body shuddering, arms grasping your head…the stranger from before was gone. Even the older, more mature Momo was gone. It was as if the events that just occurred ripped the layers of change away, leaving nothing but a frightened, ten-year-old girl. _

"_I…I…killed…" _

_I crawled towards you and wrapped my arms around you as you clutched my sweat-drenched shirt. You screamed in agony, mixed in with this sense of loss, as you sobbed._

_I held you tighter, as if doing so would squeeze out all the memories of today, yesterday, these last few years. After a while, the hiccupping stopped._

"_D-Daddy…" You pulled away and looked up at me with these vacant eyes. _

_You whispered hoarsely, "What happened? Where's…my Daddy?" _

_Something stabbed me, clean through the heart, colder than any blade, more painful than anything. _

_That was the moment I knew you were gone._

_With that, you closed your eyes and collapsed into my lap. Droplets of water fell on your pale cheeks. I looked up to see the ceiling, realizing that there were no clouds—just me._

_I kept my head tilted upwards and screamed at the gods—or whoever the cruel person was controlling the world. The tears burned and the crying hurt my throat. All the anger that kept me surviving was gone. I was left with only sorrow. _

_Which really meant that I was alone._

_But working off pure despair, I was capable enough to grab the gun and cover it in my handprints. My empty mind led me over to the corpse of the man we once feared and wipe my hands in his pooling blood. _

_I sat by you the rest of the time and waited._

_When I heard the sirens outside along with the yelling of demands, I stood. I stood and waited for the door to open. When it did, I made sure to mask myself. I made sure that what the police would find was an innocent little girl, a dead man, and a monster covered in blood._

_I succeeded. _

"Toushiro! Don't fuck with me!" Desperation, anger is in the lawyer's voice. "Stop trying to be the goddamn hero! This isn't time for that!"

The young man returns him a small, sad smile.

_The teachers at Karakura High always told me I had the shittiest conclusions to my essays. And I guess that still stands for me, even if it's been years. _

_But that's what happened. _

_Sometimes—like now—I think about how things could've been, even if I know it's no use. There are times where I see myself walking down the streets with you, in our school clothes, smiling and laughing like there's nothing wrong in the world. In those images, it's always the two of us doing the most trivial things—but they all fill me with this sort of sadness all the same._

_I'm sorry. Sorry for everything that happened. I can't help but feel guilty that a person like you had to suffer so much. Even if it is the cruel realities of the world that should be apologizing._

_The sun is starting to rise, which means I have spent the whole night writing. It also means that I'll be able to see you for the first time in for what seems like an eternity. I wonder how much you've grown…how much you've changed…_

_But none of that matters because you are the only light that I have left._

_That's why you'll never read this._

_I realize now that none of this was really written for you. It was written for me—as a second chance to relive my moments with you again completely, from beginning to end. And after writing all this, I am able to realize something that I can't believe I never thought about before. Something that I had been aiming for since I was the little boy of ten that met you._

_This is my chance to save you._

_A few hours from now, I will walk into that courtroom and see you. And we will be years apart. But that still doesn't change the fact that you are Momo. And I am me._

_Goodbye, Momo._

"I shot him. I'm guilty."

_Love,_

_Toushiro_


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Hitsugaya Toushiro was executed at 12 PM. The execution was private, but the young woman who testified against him waited for the moment in her room. She had expected to feel joy in the courtroom after his sudden admittance to murder, but did not. So she waited for the delayed sense of liberation to come to her again in her room.

Yet when the both the hour, the minute, and the second hand were at the top of the clock, she felt as if she lost something terribly precious.

Now she is at the police station, just done filling out the last sheets of paper work with her gloating lawyer. She fakes the same sense of happiness that her lawyer has as not to concern anyone.

She almost allows her façade break until she hears someone call out her name.

"Hinamori-san!"

Turning, she finds a tall, orange-blonde haired woman trying to run towards her in high heels. She recognizes the woman as the one who talked to the defense attorney often during breaks in the trial. If she remembers correctly, the woman is a social worker.

"Hello." She greets tentatively She is certain that the woman knew Hitsugaya Toushiro well and therefore must harbor a great amount of animosity towards her.

"Hi…" The woman's blue eyes look at her, as if she knew her. She feels like she knew the woman too, yet cannot remember meeting her.

"Here." The woman hands her a thick, white envelope.

She takes it, unsure of what to do.

"It…it was found in his cell. It…it was addressed to you and I took it before the officials got it."

"Um…thanks." She flips the envelope and sees her name, Hinamori Momo, writing in neat ink.

She is supposed to study at the library in preparation for classes after waving goodbye to the woman, but she walks past the building and heads to her apartment. She sits at her desk, turning the envelope in her hands, unsure of what to do with it.

Her hand—with the letter—hovers over the trash bin but something inside her refuses to let the simple white envelope go. Finally, she gives in and places it back on her desk. She notices how familiar the handwriting feels—as if the unique loops and slants are all something she has seen over and over before.

Once again, the voice inside her urges her to look inside. She does. Gently sliding her finger under the flap, she pulls out sheets of notebook paper filled with the same handwriting and the same feeling of nostalgic sadness.

And so slowly, slowly…

She begins to read.

* * *

**A/N: This is honestly the first fanfic I have ever finished. And I must say, it feels pretty good. Although, I'm super sad that it's over, I'm so glad that I was able to have readers! **

**Thank you so much to all you stayed with this modest fanfic to its very end! I really hope this story has touched you in some way or another...**

**I'll probably end up writing again sometime, although I will be extremely busy this coming school year. But of course, I love writing and anime/manga—and fanfiction is just the perfect outlet for me. So (maybe) look forward to my next work?**


End file.
